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LOUIS XIV. 



AND HIS 



CONTEMPOEAEIES. 



All books are properly the record of the history of past men — what 
thoughts past men had in them — what actions past men did : the summary 
of all books whatsoever lies here. It is on this ground that the class of 
books specifically named histoiy can be safely recommended as the basis 
of all study of books — the preliminary to all right and full understanding 
of any thing we can expect to find in books. — Thomas Carlyle. 

Of all our passions and appetites, the love of power is of the most im- 
perious and unsociable nature, since the pride of one man requires the 
submission of the multitude. — Gibbon. 



BY BENJAMIN BENSLEY, 

4UTHOR OF " HENRY THE EIGHTH AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES," 
AND OTHER WORKS. 



LONDON : 

PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY 

DARTON AND CLARK, 

HOLBOEN HILL. 

1845. 



Z 4 ' O 



4o6o5 



LONDON : 
•Vf. MARTIN, PRINTER, 19, CURSITOR STREET, CHANCEET LAN] 



in' 



CONTENTS 



Dedication to Louis Philippe, the King of the French . . Page vii 

Table of Contemporary Princes , x 

Address to the Reader. ...... .si 

SECTION I. 

Louis XIIT. — Sterility of Anne — Buckingham and Richelieu make love 
to her — Birth of Louis XIV. — Richelieu's administration — Death of 
Louis XIII. — Anne of Austria and Mazarin — Concini — French victo- 
ries under Conde — De Retz, and parties in France — Broussel's arrest — 
the Dukes of Beaufort, Bouillon, and Elbeuf, lead the Fronde — Beauty 
of the Duchess de Longueville — Libels on Queen Anne — Mazarin's 
pleasantry — Riots and intrigues — Distress in Paris, and the royal family 
in want — Joyous entrance of Louis XIV. — Mazarin's popularity — Con- 
de's discontent and insolence — Pretended assassination of one of the 
Fronde — Counter-plot — Morals of Paris — Arrest of Conde, Conti, and 
Longueville — Plots of his family — Civil wars — Migration of the court — 
Its return to Paris — De Retz's desperation — Mazarin loses his self-pos- 
session — Vacillation of the Duke of Orleans — Rising of the Paris mob, 
incited by De Retz — Mazarin tardily liberates Conde, &c.— Who visit 
the Queen — Retirement of Mazarin — De Retz turns a spiritual charac- 
ter — Treaty between him and the Queen Regent — Disturbances in the 
Parliament — Louis attains his majority — De Retz makes love to the 
Queen — Power of Mazarin even in exile — Royal progress — Narrow 
escapes from Conde — Turenne acts for the royalists — Conde possesses 
himself of Paris — Turenne successful in bringing back Mazarin — 
Frightful scenes in Paris — Mazarin again exiled — Turbulence of De 
Retz — Beaufort, Conde, and others, make their escape — Restoration of 
the royal authority page 1 

SECTION II. 

Treaty of Westphalia — Determination to put down Conde — Close of the 
public career of De Retz — Death of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse — Arrest 
of De Retz — Remarkable astrological predictions — Removal of De Retz 
— His escape — Interesting adventures by land and sea — His travels in 
Spain — Marriage of Mazarin's niece — High notions of Louis XIV. — 
Queen Christina — Oliver Cromwell — Charles II. a Roman Catholic — 
Testimonies to the greatness of Cromwell — Disgusting conduct of the 



IV CONTENTS. 

Stuarts — Taking of Dunkirk — Infamous murder by Queen Christina — 
Fear of Louis marrying one of Mazarin's nieces — Peace between France 
and Spain — Marriage of Louis XIV. — Pardon of Conde — Avarice of 
Mazarin — Marriages of his nieces — Final illness and characteristic 
death of Mazarin — Henrietta married to the Duke of Anjou — Female in- 
trigues — Disgraceful amours of Louis XIV. — Fouquet's ambition — Dis- 
simulation of the king — The government — Fouquet's arrest and lengthened 
imprisonment — His death — The French at Rome — Magnificent carousal 
at Versailles — Astrologers and Fools — Free Trade — Ship-building — 
Fashion of Dress — Policy of the Bourbons — French Navy — Dutch com- 
merce — The Bishop of Munster — Repose and grandeur of France and 
Louis XIV 59 

SECTION III. 

Death of Philip IV. — Louis' pretensions — Louvois promoted — Several 
towns in Flanders besieged — Rapid conquests — Conde recalled to public 
life — Consultations of De Witt, Temple, and De Dhona — Peace dictated 
by the Dutch — Also between Spain and Portugal — Cassimir, King of 
Poland, descends voluntarily from the throne — Death of Beaufort — 
Baseness of Charles II. — A new harlot presented to the King of England 
— Awful death of Henrietta — Continental supineness — Respect due to 
Holland — Splendid condition of the French army — Mercantile spirit of 
the Dutch — Passage of the Rhine — The sons of Abraham offer bribes 
for protection — Determination of the Dutch — Solbay — Vile and cruel 
ingratitude of the people to the De Witts — Little eredit therein to the 
Prince of Orange — Errors of Louis — Europe begins to rouse up — 
Perils of the French — Weakness of Leopold — The eminent engineer 
Vauban — Young Churchill (afterwards Duke of Marlborough) — Lorraine 
overrun — Luxembourg driven out of Flanders — The English murmur 
at the perfidy of Charles II. — Sufferings in Franche-Comte — Battle of 
Seneff — France in danger, for want of soldiers — Turenne and Monte- 
cuculi — Death of Turenne — Of Conde — And of Montecuculi — Mon- 
sieur succeeds in a battle, to the chagrin of Louis XIV. — De Ruyter's 
mortal wound — Treatise of peace — Designs of France — Strasbourg — 
Casal given up to the French — The Genoese — Colbert's success — John 
Sobicski, King of Poland — Fresh seizures on the part of Louis — Death 
of Charles II. of England — Accession of James II. — Digusting conduct 
of the Church of England — Remonstrances of Rouvigny to Louis XIV. 
— Description and History of the Edict of Nantes — Infamous cruelty of 
Louis, the ministers and clergy — Revocation of the Edict — Christian libe- 
rality of the late Archbishop of Canterbury — Louis' increasing "glory" 
— Persecution of the Vaudois — Religious differences . . 113 

SECTION IV. 

Domestic occurrences of Louis' court — Retirement of LaValliere — Gene- 
ral profligacy — Madame de Montespan — Lauzun — His imprisonment at 
Pigtaerol — The Duke d'Antin — Death of Anne of Austria — Poisoning — 
Implication of two of Mazarin's nieces — Murder of Maria-Louisa, 
Queen of Spain, by the mother of Prince Eugene — Disgraceful position 
of the Duke of Luxembourg — Pomponne — Treason of the Che v alier 






CONTENTS. V 

de Rohan — The great Colbert — Madame de Fontange — Madame de 
Maintenou — Death of the Queen — Marriage of some of Louis' illegiti- 
mate children — The man in the iron mask — English affairs — Traitorous 
schemes of the High Church — Injudicious conduct of James II. — 
Unexpected pregnancy of the Queen of England — Doubts as to her 
delivery — Manifesto of Louis against the Emperor — Expedition to 
bring over William III. — Dying agonies of the Scotch Kirk — The 
Protestant wind — Dismay of the court party in England — Arrival of 
William III. — Several lords join him — A parliament called — Invitation 
to William and Mary jointly to occupy the vacant throne — The true era 
of English liberty — Degradation of James II. — Expedition of France 
to Ireland — Schomberg and Ginkle — Battle of the Boyne — Flight of 
James — Marlborough finally reduces Ireland — Attempts to assassinate 
William III. — Conduct of Louis to James II. — Sketch of the misfor- 
tunes of the wretched Stuarts — Biography of the Hydes . . 187 

SECTION V. 

The Dauphin commands an army in Germany — Infamy of Louis as re- 
gards cruelties in the Palatinate — A new Pope — Death of Louvois — 
Waldeck — Louis desires peace — Catinat — Luxembourg — Luxury and 
vanity of Louis XIV. — Battles of Steenkirk and Landen — French tes- 
timony to the merit of William III. — Starvation in France — Namur — 
Remarkable exploit and death of Luxembourg — Indian possessions of 
France — The buccaneers at Tortuga, the Cayos, Cape Tiburon, Panama, 
Chagre, Porto-Bello, Jamaica, &c. — Distress of France drives Louis to 
makes fresh overtures for peace — Peace of Ryswick — Charles VI. of 
Lorraine— Death of Sobieski, King of Poland — Election of a new king 
— A general peace — Peter the Great — Goes to Holland, England and 
Austria, whence he is hurried to Moscow by a rebellion — Frightful pu- 
nishments — Charles XII. of Sweden — Peter and the kings of Poland 
and Denmark join to attack Sweden — Defeated — Russian resignation — 
Anticipations from the death of Charles II. of Spain — Intrigues— Final 
appointment of Philip V. — Declining state of William III. — Gradual 
drawing together of European powers to humble France — Another 
Pope — Arrival and first measures of the new King of Spain — Great 
treats prepared for Louis XIV. and Philip V. — Spanish pride and in- 
dolence — A sheep's-eye cast at church property — Marriage of Philip to 
Maria Louisa, daughter of the Duke of Savoy — Intrigues and surveillance 
— Agonies of the queen and court at the king becoming bald — Philip 
at Naples — Treated with miracles — Distress of Philip . . 264 

SECTION VI. 

The war recommences in Italy — Declining health of William III. — 
Deaths of Tillotson, Queen Mary, and William — Accession of Queen 
Anne — Barbesieux, Chamlay, Ponchartrain, Pomponne. Prince Eu- 
gene of Savoy, Catinat, Villeroi, Duke of Savoy, Marlborough, Godol- 
phin — Rapid conquests — Villars — Blenheim — Ramillies — Louis' depres- 
sion — Turin relieved — Futile attempt of " the Pretender" upon Eng- 
land — New disasters of the French in the Low Countries — Fall of Lille — 
The English take Gibraltar — The English in Spain — Continued depves-- 



VI CONTENTS. 

sion of France — Pride of Holland — Louis agrees to abandon Spain — 
Malplaquet — Duke of Orleans and Philip V. — The Whigs out, and the 
Tories change the counsels of England — Injustice to the Duke of Marl- 
borough — Queen Anne's treachery — Deaths of the Dauphin, the Empe- 
ror Joseph, the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy, and their eldest son — 
Distraction of Louis XIV. — Favourable change for France — Peace of 
Utrecht — Death of Queen Anne — Duke of Marlborough in old age and 
retirement — Death of both Duke and Duchess .... 328 

SECTION VII. 

Decline and Death of Louis XIV. — Picture of the sensation thereby created 
— Dissertation on his Character — A Day at Versailles — On the Arts — 
Memoirs of several eminent Artists — Architecture, Gardening, &c. — 
Pascal, Moliere, Corneille, Racine, Bossuet, La Fontaine, Bourdaloue, 
Boileau, Fenelon,Fontenelle, St. Aulaire, Le Sage, Massillon, Rousseau 
— Wind-up of the War — End of the career of Philip V. — Madame de 
Maintenon — Bishop Burnet's Death, and last Words to Posterity — The 
celebrated French historian Rollin, and this Book closed with his 
beautiful " Conclusion" 395 



ERRATA. 

At page 84, the \7th line from the bottom, " et it se fasoit V should be " il 
se fasoit, " &c. 

At p. 208, the last line, the expression I have used I fear is too strong. One 
would not speak ill of a whole nation, among whom there are, and have 
ever been, virtuous in all ranks. I wished to convey that Madame de 
Maintenon could not in justice be considered more scrupulous than the 
French court ladies in general, who might well adopt the motto "Who 
is the Lord, that we should obey him ?" 

At p. 245, I have spoken of the penalty France has ever paid for daring to 
rouse the British lion. Of course, I allude to the destruction of her 
navy, and her marine inferiority. I should regret that a line, written 
rather in a spirit of pleasantry than with an arrogant boast, should give 
offence to any of that great and gallant nation. 

At p. 246, I must, in a similar way, beg to qualify an expression perhaps too 
general. By way of showing a parallel to the kind of clerical fashion of 
those days to malign the government, and lower the respect due to the 
crown, then worn by William III., I referred my reader to the habit of 
speaking ill of our present queen which pretty generally pervaded the 
established clergy while the Whigs were in power. I mean, of course, 
that if too general, there were yet numerous exceptions. 



TO 



HIS MAJESTY 

LOUIS PHILIPPE, 

KING OF THE FRENCH, &c. 



MAY IT PLEASE YOUR MAJESTY, 

We are told by Cicero that, as the condition of kings 
places them in stations most exposed to the observation 
of the world, their words and actions cannot be obscure. 
One of our own old writers remarks, of those sovereigns 
whose history, in an especial manner, has singularly 
marked the footsteps of Divine Providence, that their 
lives and deeds call for more diligent present attention, 
and will be more closely scrutinized by posterity. 

Your Majesty's career has been remarkable : born to 
the highest station and almost boundless wealth, by the 
force of terrible storms, political and social, in compara- 
tive destitution, you were driven from your own country 
to seek a long asylum in ours. In the mutations of 
worldly events, you were carried back to the land of your 
birtV and in time restored to your ancestral possessions. 



Vlii DEDICATION. 

Another turn of the wheel of Providence, and you were 
placed at the head of the great country which could no 
longer tolerate the bad government of ancient bigots. 
After the hurricanes that had desolated France for half 
a century, it was your destiny to guide that lively, and 
yet magnificent, nation. And how have they been 
guided ? 

Strong, prosperous, and yet restless, but for your 
Majesty's powerful mind, the latent embers of glory, 
with the French, having always been like tinder, would 
have ignited, and set Europe in a blaze. The praise of 
being one who could teach so warlike a people as your 
subjects how to turn their swords into plough -shares, 
and their spears into pruning - hooks, with sensible 
minds is even now very highly appreciated ; and remote 
posterity — who are likely to be wiser than the present 
race — will inscribe your name on imperishable records 
as a governor calculated by understanding and decision 
to rule the great and fiery people of France, as indeed 
they seem never to have been ruled before. It is more 
glorious to be classed with Sully than with that monarch 
whose history is the subject of the following pages. 

The ground upon which I venture to dedicate this 
book to your Majesty is that you have given proof to the 
world you appreciate the real glory of France, and there- 
fore have promoted the welfare of Europe. In your 
person, we see a remarkable instance of one who may 
be said to have been born to, to have achieved, and to 
be worthy of, a throne. 



DEDICATION. IX 

I make no apology for placing your illustrious name 
at the head of this dedication, because it is an honest 
tribute of a foreigner's respect to your character. Ac- 
cording to the rule of all ages, I address myself to your 
Majesty under the fiction that these few lines will be 
perused by you, when in reality there cannot be a re- 
mote probability that you will ever hear of the existence 
of such a little book as this. If therefore it be asked, 
why then dedicate your work thus ? The answer is, it 
is our duty, while we bless Divine Providence for rais- 
ing up and prospering remarkable instruments, to be 
grateful to those agents, and to do what we can to hold 
them up to public respect, that others may be incited to 
like good deeds. 

With this view alone have I taken the liberty of 
recording my humble admiration of the course your 
majesty has run ; and expressing a hope that, when the 
common destinies of our nature shall bring us to the 
termination of our earthly career — you, as a mighty so- 
vereign, and I, as an obscure writer, may find mercy at 
the hands of that dread King of kings, before whom we 
shall then stand as equals ! 

Till which hour may success attend your Majesty's 

praise-worthy efforts, and may the declining years of 

your important life be smoothed by every national and 

domestic blessing. 

The Author. 



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THE 



AUTHORS ADDRESS 



TO 



THE READER 



What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might 

And vaine assurance of mortality, 

Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight 

Against spirituall foes, yields by and by, 

Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly ! 

Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill 

That thorough grace hath gained victory. 

If any strength we have, it is to ill ; 

But all the good is God's, both power and eke will. 

Spenser's Faerie Quene, 

First stanza of Canto X. 



Gentle Readek, 



Those who deal in second-hand and old books say there has 
of late been a considerable demand for works connected with 
the times of Louis XIV. This may partly be attributable to 
the attention directed thereto by Mr. James's elaborate Life 
of the Grand Monarque, which must have excited great de- 
sire for information on so interesting a portion of history, 
through the notices of the press. As it came out in four large 
and handsome 8vo. volumes, adapted to the shelves of a gen- 
tleman's library, it can be seen by but few. Voltaire's " Age 



Xil 10 THE HEADER. 

of Louis XIV.' : is too able and too cheerful ever to become 
obsolete ; but I am not aware that it is to be found in a 
modern garb, at a low price. Moreover, it is too full of the 
" glory " of France to be a pleasant companion of the Eng- 
lish reader of this day, who remembers French doings at 
the Ee volution, and who has witnessed the humiliation of 
that people after the long war. The position of France, in our 
own times, has thus arToided a striking parallel to the pros- 
tration that darkened the latter days of Louis XIV., and, 
what is of far more consequence, inflicted such unheard-of 
misery upon our light-hearted neighbours, throughout the 
length and breadth of that extended kingdom. 

The tendency to exalt the principles of liberty, without 
pandering to democracy — the most detestable of all exhibi- 
tions of power — the reader need not be directed to mark in 
the following pages. The wickedness and folly of war, from 
a sense of duty, are frequently pointed out ; nor has it been 
without considerable difficulty that I have been compelled 
silently to pass over many occasions where principle seemed 
to demand its reprehension. These noted battles have deso- 
lated thousands of hearths ; and tens of thousands 

" Unliousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, 
No reckoning made, but sent to their account, 
With all their imperfections on their head : 
O, horrible ! 0, horrible ! most horrible ! " — 

Yet it would have appeared like a dosing of my reader 
always to have introduced the iniquity of the practice ; or to 
have avoided the use of terms of common parlance, such as 
bravery, heroes, masterly movements, &c, that almost convey 
admiration, or at any rate lead to the idea that our sympa- 
thies are enlisted, and do not seem congruous with abhorrence 
of the injustice treated of. It is confessedly a difficulty. 
Still I have endeavoured to clothe such pictures with no at- 
traction, as that pernicious practice is even more objection- 
aide than open justification of "battles, and murder, and 
(therefore) sudden death." 



TO THE READER. 



Xlll 



This work has proved very laborious : the following is a 
list of authors and works consulted or quoted : — 



Aitken, Miss 

Anquetfl, De 

Biographie Universelle 

Bolingbroke 

Bossuet 

Brienne, De 

Brodie 

Bucke 

Bulwer, E. L. 

Burnet, Bishop 

Canterbury, late Archbishop of 

Christina, Queen 

Choisi, De 

Clarendon, Lord 

Coxe 

Covvper 

Dangeau, De 

Delort 

Dover, Lord 

Fare, De La 

Fayette, La 

Fleuri, Cardinal 

Fontenay, De 

Gourville 

Grainger 

Gray 

Grey 

Henley 

Howard, Cardinal 

James, G. P. R. 

James II. 

Johnson, Dr. 

Joly 

Lardner 



Laval 

Lempriere 

Louvois 

Maclaine 

Maintenon, De 

M avor 

Montpensier, De 

Moore, Dr. 

Mosheim 

Motteville, De 

Neale 

Necker 

Noailles, Due De 

Noble, Mark 

Orleans, Memoires De 

Pope 

Retz, De 

Rollin 

Saturday Magazine 

Scheltema 

Simon, Due De St. 

Smyth 

Stuart Papers 

Talon, De 

lemple, Sir William 

Venceslas 

Vies des Hommes Illustres 

Voltaire 

Ursins, Princess of 

Walker 

Walpole 

Wellvvood, Dr 

Wharncliffe, Lord 

Wordsworth 



Voltaire has largely helped me, because, spite of our total 
difference on religious matters, I think there is an evident 
desire to be traced, in his work, for truth to form the basis 
of his record; and the freedom and simplicity of his style will 
always sustain his standing in literature. I have endeavour- 
ed to prepare the following sheets so as to open European 
politics of those days ; to exhibit the passions of the main 
actors, leading to the deeds that stamped that remarkable 
age ; and to leave impressions of justice, without which we 
read in vain. 

On the religious persecutions, more or less connected 
with the revocation of the edict of Nantes, I have spoken 
with unhesitating honor and disgust. Let us remember, 



XIV TO THE READER. 

however, that these crimes arose from no peculiar atrocity in 
the wicked heart of the selfish monarch, which in no respect 
was more deceitful than other hearts. These awful cruelties, 
it is true, led to the accumulation of sorrows and sufferings, 
to read only a small part of which rouses our indignation and 
enlists our sympathies. No, we must look deeper than this, 
and, to get profit from our reading, trace these deeds of dark- 
ness up to superstition. Aye, but, say some, superstition is 
a bye-gone thing ; you need not sound the tocsin of alarm 
here — it can never more disturb us in the 19th century; it 
may be all very well as a bugaboo for children and old 
women, but men are wiser now, &c. I should have been 
the first so to have said, reader, five years ago; but, if we 
look at the doings and " teachings " during that short time, 
we must be very bold to set bounds to the effects of super- 
stition and will-worship. 

The section of our established church that has made so 
determined a crusade against protestantism; who are ena- 
moured of a pompous ceremonial, and passionately in love 
with frivolities at once numerous and minute, remind one of 
Swift's description of the son that would insist on it he was 
fulfilling his fathers will, who had left him a plain coat to 
wear, strictly enjoining that he should add nothing to it — 
when he covered it with gold lace, and bedizened it with 
tawdry ornaments, he was pertinacious in self-gratulation 
that he best carried out his parent's intentions. So the teach- 
ing of these men, " when stripped of the verbiage in which 
they have seen good to envelop it," says the Rev. T. Jackson, 
when clawing Dr. Pusey, in return for the scratch that velvet- 
pawed divine had given to the numerous body of Wesley- 
ans ; " their doctrine is precisely that of the council of Trent, 
and therefore at variance with the articles and homilies of 
their own church, which they have severally subscribed. I 
pass over the bitter and persecuting spirit, which not a few of 
them have betrayed." Now, this is precisely that which I do 
not pass over — for I want to show that this is the inevitable 
tendency of their " catholicity." 



TO THE KEADEK. XV 

Their hatred of the reformers, on all occasions expressed 
without " reserve f their dishonest attempts to " explain " 
away the honest meaning of words, by wanting to make out 
that persons wholly disapproving of what they are called on 
to subscribe may interpret those articles in accordance with 
their own views, may steam up in the nostrils of high church 
dignitaries as a very precious odour ; but men of common 
sense and honesty will see that this must be dishonourable 
and sinful. Nor does it require the spirit of prophecy to see 
where this must end. It is to be hoped there will ever be 
some remonstrants. Well, these " rubricians," " high-church," 
" Puseyites," " Komanizers," or quocunque nomine gaudes, 
will soon see how necessary it is, for " unity," that refractory 
" sons " should be silenced. And, should England once more 
become a land of graven images, what is to prevent scenes 
similar to the dreadful persecutions of the French protestants 
who would not bow down to the image Louis XIV. had set 
up ? Thus, if a hasty perusal should lead my reader to say, 
"What can the revival of wholesome discipline, so much 
talked of in the present day, have in common with the history 
of the revocation of the edict of Nantes?" I answer "Much 
every way." 

Throughout church history the same principle may be 
traced. Under Jew and Gentile ; from the days of Wy cliff 
to Luther ; thenceforward to Louis XIV. ; and from his time 
to 1844. And so it must be to the end of time — a dominant 
sect must needs do all in the way of persecution which the 
circumstances of the day permit. I enquire not now in what 
other respects evil may result ; men's minds will, I fear, for 
some time to come, be divided thereupon. Dr. Adam Clarke, 
whose sons have become ministers of the church — showing 
how people will differ on these matters — in his commentary 
upon Luke xx. 25, observes, " the government of the church 
of Christ is widely different from secular government. It is 
founded in humility and brotherly love ; it is derived from 
Christ, the great head of the church, and is ever conducted 
by his maxims and spirit. When political matters are 



XVI TO THE ItEADEE. 

brought into the church of Christ, both are ruined. The 
church has more than once ruined the state; the state has 
often corrupted the church : it is certainly for the interests 
of both to be kept separate. This has already been exem- 
plified in both cases, and will continue so to be over the 
whole world, wherever the church and state are united in 
secular matters." 

The mind of man has made wonderful advances — for 
good or for evil. To all human establishments, civil or ec- 
clesiastical, there is an allotted time. See how the ancient 
monarchies have been carried away as with a flood. Through- 
out the ages of the world, let us observe that the Almighty 
Architect never repairs, but removes ; and the mighty stream, 
w T hich is carrying back so many clericals to past errors and 
mummeries, may be one of those powerful agencies to bring 
about His purposes. The cup of iniquity, as regards priests 
and people, may be nearly full, and the irreversible sentence 
have gone forth, " Overturn, overturn, overturn/' It would 
seem that thus it must ever be — the state corrupts the church, 
the church panders to the state. 

That interesting historian, Bishop Burnet, an ornament 
to the church he so ardently longed to see reformed, spared 
not the rod. He tells us with regret that he had observed 
the clergy in all the places through which he had travelled, 
Papists, Lutherans, Calvinists, and Dissenters ; but, of them 
all, he said, the clergy of the established church were the 
most remiss in their labours in private, and the least se- 
vere in their lives. So far was he from wishing to pull 
down the church that "he prayed earnestly it might be 
built up by their labours ; that it might long continue the 
joy of the whole earth in the perfection of its beauty ; and be 
a pattern, as well as give protection, to all the churches of 
God." The surgeon who inflicts great pain by the removal 
of a limb, and thereby confers permanent benefit on the 
sufferer, is a benefactor, though, while writhing under the 
knife, we do not look upon the operator with complacency. 

I have frequently said, in the course of the following 



TO THE READER. XV11 

pages, that neither young nor old ought to read for amuse- 
ment only : principles ought to be inculcated by a writer, who 
should keep constantly before his own eye, and his reader's 
attention, the objects he has in view. Kemembering the 
motto, " fas est et ab hoste doceri," let us learn of these ru- 
bricians, who so live, and think, and act, as if the one deside- 
ratum of existence was to bring back the halcyon days of 
darkness. Like those romantic rivers, the current of which 
here runs smoothly on — one while in broad, clear streams — 
anon contracted and sinuously twisting about; sometimes 
literally buried under ground, and so lost sight of; then 
re-appearing in vigour and beauty — but wheresoever seen, or 
lost sight of, ever tending to one point — ever emptying their 
waters into the sea. 

Thus is it with these formalists. Sometimes they are 
starting such monstrous propositions, and cutting such ca- 
pers, that we expect to hear they have clubbed together to 
purchase " Punch," that renowned periodical, as a vehicle for 
promulgating their apostolic views. At other periods demand- 
ing the rigid observance of fasts, hinting at reviving the con- 
fessional, and turning their regards towards more practical 
corporeal mortifications. Indeed one has lately, in a public 
sermon, told his audience all to purchase Moore's Almanack, 
for, as the saints' days are printed in red, they can more 
easily see them, and thus that celebrated work " may prove 
a means of grace to the people!" Like those who, says 
Mr. Jackson, " in Ireland and in Italy observe saints' days and 
profane the Sabbath ; who count their beads, practise all the 
rites of the church, carefully avoid all that would violate 
what is called 'catholic unity,' and would commit murder 
for half-a-crown ! " 

Margaret, Queen of Navarre, tells of a young prince, 
(Francis I.) in her " Heptameron," lamentably profligate, who 
on his way to scandalous assignations had to pass through 
a church, and he made a point of never going through that 
holy place, even on such occasions, without stopping to pray! 
It is to be observed that the talented queen does not instance 



XV111 TO THE READER. 

this as a remarkable case of fearful self-delusion, and a gross 
insult to the majesty of heaven — but as a testimony of singu- 
lar devotion ! " A true prayer, and a religious reconciling of 
ourselves to God, cannot enter into an impure soul, subjected 
at the time to the dominion of Satan. He who calls God to 
his assistance, whilst in the pursuit of vice, does as if a cut- 
purse should call a magistrate to help him, or like those who 
introduce the name of God to the attestation of a lie." I 
quote from a Eoman Catholic writer — to show that super- 
stition is not essential to any special form of religion — for 
who would dare to say so of the profession of such men as 
Fenelon, Pascal, Eollin, or Massillon ? With us it rests not 
to say what particular degree may co-exist with true religion 
in the heart. The judicious line seems to be that the 
tendency of slavish credulity is to lead away from internal 
evidences. Such tests are most especially eschewed by the 
advocates of a formal, tangible religion — reminding one of 
the sprouting of this hydra's head in Cowper's days, who 
sings of some lights that were then for reviving the 

" Good substantial gods of wood and stone." 

Why accounts like the following should be rare I can really 
see no reason, if regular progression mark this memorable 
movement : — 

Messrs. Pusey and Newman, 
Churchwardens of Rubricia, 

Aug. 7, 1856. To Simon Snooks. 

£ s. d. 
For solidly repairing St. Joseph 4 

— repairing the Virgin Mary before and behind ..006 

— turning a nose for the devil, putting a horn upon 

his head, and glueing a piece to his tail ... 4 3 



8 9 



Let it not be thought this is &jeu d' esprit ; it is, verbatim, co- 
pied from a recent account delivered in a parish in Bohemia. 
Spanish credulity is happily exhibited at p. 71. I will 



TO THE HEADER. XIX 

give my reader a specimen of Austrian. " Seefeld is a small 
village, with an abbey, very pleasantly situated : the church, 
a tolerably fine one, is famous for the following miracle. In 
1384, a certain person, whose name is inscribed somewhere 
on the outside of the building, not being content, on Easter 
Sunday, with partaking of the common host, insisted upon 
having the grand host — that exhibited upon the altar — and 
by force got it into his mouth. Instantly the earth opened 
beneath him, and swallowed him up : in his descent he 
caught hold of the edge of the altar, which just gave time 
for the priest to take the host from his mouth, and the man 
then disappeared ! They still show the hole, covered with an 
iron grating ; and the altar which received the impression of 
the man's fingers ; and the host, which is all red, as though 
stained with blood!" If it be asked, what particular evil 
results from being over-credulous? — from that, in short, to 
which the revivers of " discipline " would re-conduct us — the 
answer is, shortly, that the "understanding becomes dark- 
ened," the spirituality of God's law is obscured, form takes 
the place of power — men and women are deluded with false 
ideas of sin in its enormity and remedy. So that Montaigne, 
then visiting Rome, describes life, in the best and worst 
society, as a round of sinning and ceremonies — piety and 
pollution. 

If viewed in a true light, such profession " is a con- 
spiracy to exalt the power of the clergy, even by subjecting 
the most sacred truths of religion to contrivances for raising 
their authority, and by offering to the world another method 
of being saved besides that prescribed in the gospel," says 
good Bishop Burnet. In his day he saw "a spirit rising 
among us too like that of the church of Rome, of advancing 
the clergy beyond their due authority to an unjust pitch. 
At any rate, men are now roused ; reformation, or severance 
of the church from the state, is the problem in process of 
solution — known only to the Most High. Meanwhile, on 
the one hand avoiding the vulgar " No Popery " bawl, on the 



XX TO THE READER. 

other, it is our duty to watch and to pray, each in his sphere 
testifying against all heresy and error. Richard Dovey, of 
Farmcote, in the parish of Claverly, Shropshire, by deed, in 
1659, gave houses and lands to that parish, on trust, for the 
maintenance of a school and certain cottages adjoining to 
the church-yard of Claverly ; and directed that the feoffees 
should place a poor man in one of the cottages, and pay him 
eight shillings yearly, for which he should undertake to 
awaken sleepers, and whip out dogs from the church of Claverly 
during divine service. Aye, aye, that is what is wanted — to 
awaken sleepers, and drive out dogs ! 

In former writings I have been censured for the too 
frequent use of strong, and even coarse, language, albeit 
confessedly not misapplied. To wit, where I have called 
Henry VIII. a miscreant. Where is the impropriety ? With 
other meanings, our dictionaries describe that word as signi- 
fying a base-minded person. The disgust created in going 
over the deeds of such as Louis XIV. can only lead to their 
being described as scenes of blood and rapine, and such 
actors as the butchers of mankind. And I must say, as good 
Bishop Burnet in one place remarks, " if these words seem 
not decent enough, I will make no other apology but that I 
use them because I cannot find worse — for as they are the 
worst of men, so they deserve the worst of language." 

In the earlier part of the following work I might have 
said more concerning that great man, Cromwell — the truth is 
his life and reign form the subject of a corresponding volume 
with this. Henry VIII. was the first of a contemplated 
series ; Louis XIV. forms the second ; and Oliver Cromwell, 
as the third, is now ready for the press. To have pursued 
the fortunes of Charles XII., and Peter the Great, would 
hardly have come within the scope of a history of Louis XIV., 
as their respective reigns produced but little influence on the 
middle and south of Europe then ; nor am I sure that the 
matter will be inappropriate for a distinct vc/Vume. 

In the preparation of this book for the press, to quote the 



TO THE READER. XXI 

words of the author of the " Anatomy of Melancholy" (Eohert 
Burton, though he somewhat fancifully calls himself Demo- 
critus, Junior), " I might indeed (had I wisely done) have 
observed that precept of the poet — nonumque prematur in 
annum, and have taken more care. Or, as Alexander, the 
physician, would have done by lapis lazuli, fifty times washed 
before it was used, I should have revised, corrected, and 
amended this tract; but I had not that happy leisure — no 
amanuenses nor assistants. Pancrates, in Lucian, wanting a 
servant as he went from Memphis to Coptus in Egypt, took 
a door bar, and, after some superstitious words pronounced 
(Eucrates, the relator, was then present), made it stand up 
like a serving man, fetch him water, turn the spit, serve in 
supper, and what work he would besides ; and, when he had 
done that service he desired, turned his man to a stick again. 
I have no such skill to make new men at my pleasure, or 
means to hire them ; no whistle, to call like the master of a 
ship, and bid them run, &c. I have no such authority, no 
such benefactors, as that noble Ambrosius was to Origen, 
allowing him six or seven amanuenses to write out his 
dictates : I must for that cause do my business myself, and 
was therefore enforced, as a bear doth her whelps, to bring 
forth this confused lump. I had not time to lick it into 
form, as she doth her young ones, but even so to publish it as 
it was first written, quicquid in buccam venit * * * * 
I am aquce potor (a teetotaler !), drink no wine at all, which 
so much improves our modern wits; a loose, plain, rude, 
writer, ficum voco ficum, et ligonem ligonem, and as free as 
loose : idem calamo quod in menie : I call a spade a spade. 
Animis hcec scribo, non auribus, I respect matter, not words ; 
remembering that of Cardan, verba propter res, non res propter 
verba; and seeking with Seneca, quia scribam, non quem- 
admodum, rather ivhat than how to write. For, as Philo 
thinks, he that is conversant about matter neglects words, 
and those that excel in this art of speaking have no profound 
learning. Besides, it was the observation of the wise Seaeca, 
' When you see a fellow careful about his words, and neat in 



XX11 TO THE READER. 

his speech, know this for a certainty — that man's mind is 
busied about toys, there is no solidity in him.' I am, therefore, 
in this point, a professed disciple of Apollonius, a scholar of 
Socrates : I neglect phrases, and labour wholly to inform my 
reader's understanding, not to please his ear. It is not my 
study or intent to compose neatly, which an orator requires, 
but to express myself readily and plainly as it happens : so 
that, as a river runs sometimes precipitate and swift, then dull 
and slow ; now direct, then per ambages ; now deep, then 
shallow ; now muddy, then clear ; now broad, then narrow — 
doth my style flow — now serious, then light; now comical, 
then satirical ; now more elaborate, then remiss, as the pre- 
sent subject required, or as at that time I was affected. And 
if thou vouchsafe to read this treatise, it shall seem no other- 
wise to thee than the way to an ordinary traveller, sometimes 
fair, sometimes foul ; here champaign, there enclosed ; barren 
in one place, better soil in another. By woods, groves, hills, 
dales, plains, &c, I shall lead thee, per ardua montium, et 
lubrica vallium, et roscida cespitum, et glebosa camporum, 
through variety of objects — that which thou shalt like, and 
surely dislike." 

Gentle Reader, having led thee thus far — to these roscida 
cespitum — these green pastures moistened with dew, I may 
add, Ingredere ut proficias — walk on to profit. If evil befal 
thee, I have missed my aim ; if a tone of freedom, sustained 
by truth, seem to thee at times too unguarded, while I shall 
have to lament unwittingly giving offence, the consolation 
is mine of not being conscious of having " written one line 
which, dying, I would wish to blot." Myself belonging to 
that generation who are going down the hill of life — who 
need often make the sage exclamation, u Oh, if my time were 
to come over again !" I know too well the comparative useless- 
ness of writing to, or for, the old ; and again take a lesson 
from the Puseyite pages, which go upon indifference to the 
opinions of age, and determination to gain the young. Of 
my " Henry VIII. and his contemporaries," it was said that 
it would have been an excellent companion for youth, had 



TO THE READER. XX111 

it not been disfigured by such " serious drawbacks " as 
"scenting by modern prejudices the times of Henry VIII." 
This meant irreverent treatment of feasts and fasts, which the 
able reviewer solemnly tells us are " enjoined in the book of 
Common Prayer l" 

I am happy to be able respectfully to answer this gifted 
churchman with that which, by him, must be deemed irrefrag- 
able. The Bishop of Chichester (Dr. Ashurst Turner Gilbert, 
late Principal of Brazenose College, Oxford), commenced the 
primary visitation of his diocese on Tuesday, in the cathe- 
dral church of Chichester. The following is from his lord- 
ship's charge : — " / must caution the clergy always to bear in 
mind that the edification of God's people is the object of all 
their ministrations, and that they will sacrifice the end to the 
means if they needlessly offend their congregations in such mat- 
ters. I certainly am convinced that a minister takes a wrong 
and entirely inadequate view of his duty if, by adhering too 
strictly to the rubrical directions of the Book of Common 
Prayer, he alienates the affection of his congregation." So 
that, while bishops speak thus, it is to be hoped we may 
escape the charge of blasphemy for hinting that " rubrical 
directions" might be amended ! 

With certain well exposed exceptions, by which I have 
in this work tried to profit, my style that writer was pleased 
to call "clear and forcible enough," and the " inquiries into 
the causes of the Eeformation temperate ;" but then there 
was the damning spot of classing the modern revivers of dis- 
cipline with their lineal predecessors of the olden times. For 
this offence a " severe lashing " was given, " in defence of 
the reviewer's own principles." I thank him for remember- 
ing mercy in the midst of judgment. But principles are not 
put off and on like our shirts : if his are fixed, mine are the 
result of longer observation and as honest conviction. Al- 
though wide apart, as to their modus operandi, may there be 
no other warfare than that of opinion as to how we may best 
perform those duties devolving upon us in our respective 



XX JV TO THE READER. 

spheres ! And then, where the good of our fellow men, in 
connexion with the glory of God, be the point to which we 
are making, there cannot be much mischief going on—and 
we shall each receive a better recompense for our labours than 
can be expected from erring mortals who but see through a 
darkened glass while passing through this "troublesome 
world." 

B. B. 

Poolholm, near Monmouth, 
Dec. 1844. 



P.S. — Myself earnestly desirous for the promulgation of divine truth, 
and therefore rejoicing that the name of Christ should be poured forth like 
ointment, whether by hands episcopally set apart and spiritually commis- 
sioned by Him who is " a priest for ever after the order of Melehisedec" — 
or by such as man has not ordained — I shall greatly be misunderstood 
throughout this work if I am thought to sneer at religion itself, or at the 
practice of the church of England in the godly discharge of her ritual 
throughout the land. To my mind, no character claims respect more than 
the self-denying, laborious, and really spiritual, minister ; who, instant in 
season and out of season, is gifted to appreciate, and exhibit to the people 
committed to his charge, the spirituality of the services of the church. 

I attempt not to justify the strange mixture of matters essentially apart ; 
that the act of parliament, for instance, which established, in the days of 
Edward VI., " the Order of Common Prayer," should "be concluded with 
uniform agreement, and by the aid of the Holy Ghost." Individually, I 
think this indefensible. But I am only one — thousands differ on this point. 
And if numbers of devout christian men feel warm attachment to the paro- 
chial system — the many beautifully experimental and scriptural prayers oi 
the church — as a whole — perhaps not sympathising with every expression — 
saying "What is the chaff to the wheat?" — who am I, to venture to run 
down a whole order of conscientious men ! Such honest characters I wish 
God speed ; and that they may, in His time and method, be relieved from 
any painful shackles. 

Any sarcasm which may apply, throughout these pages, to the clergy, 
I hereby once for all declare is aimed only at such as enter the ministry for 
worldly distinction; and who, when at ordination they say they are moved 
by the Holy Ghost, are experimentally ignorant " whether there be any 
Holy Ghost." Such men seem to me the curse of the country, the bane of 
?>c establishment — and when christian men are so unhappily placed that 
they can receive no other ministration, I do not think the comfort of the 
20th article, by any means, compensation; but that they will necessarily 
be disposed to say, rather, to such worldly spirits, quoad the services of the 
church, "Who hath required this at your hands?" Vale! Vale! 



LOUIS XIV. 



SECTION I. 

Louis XIII. — Sterility of Anne — Buckingham and Richelieu make love to 
her — Birth of Louis XIV. — Richelieu's administration — Death of Louis 
XIII. — Anne of Austria and Mazarin — Concini — French victories under 
Conde — De Retz and parties in France — Broussel's arrest — the Dukes 
of Beaufort, Bouillon, and Elheuf, lead the Fronde — Beauty of the 
Duchess de Longueville — Libels on Queen Anne — Mazarin's pleasan- 
try — Riots and intrigues — Distress in Paris, and the royal family in 
want — Joyous entrance of Louis XIV. — Mazarin's popularity — Conde's 
discontent and insolence — Pretended assassination of one of the Fronde — 
Counter plot — Morals of Paris — Arrest of Conde, Conti, and Longue- 
ville — Plots of his family — Civil wars — Migration of the court — Its 
return to Paris— De Retz's desperation — Mazarin loses his self-posses- 
sion — Vacillation of the Duke of Orleans — Rising of the Paris mob, 
incited by De Retz — Mazarin tardily liberates Conde, &c. — Who visit 
the Queen — Retirement of Mazarin — De Retz turns a spiritual charac- 
ter — Treaty between him and the Queen Regent — Disturbances in the 
Parliament — Louis attains his majority — De Retz makes love to the 
Queen — Power of Mazarin even in exile- — Royal progress — Narrow 
escapes from Conde — Turenne acts for the royalists — Conde possesses 
himself of Paris — Turenne successful in bringing back Mazarin — 
Frightful scenes in Paris — Mazarin again exiled — Turbulence of De 
Retz — Beaufort, Conde, and others, make their escape — Restoration of 
the royal authority. 

The vigour and yet mildness of Henry IV. places him among 
the most prominent of the founders of that celebrated monarchy 
which, from jarring interests and discordant parts, has been 
formed into a coherent whole, so materially influencing Europe. 
Louis XIII., though the son of this great man, was a non- 
entity. On occasion of the marriage of Charles I. of Eng- 
land with Henrietta-Maria, youngest daughter of Henry IV., 
the Duke of Buckingham went upon his gallant embassy to 
bring over the bride. The gorgeous fopperies of his train, 
equipages, and apparel, fascinated the court and the people. 



2 STERILITY OF ANNE. 

When admitted to his first audience of Anne of Austria, he 
wore a mantle enriched with a profusion of large pearls, so 
loosely attached that some dropped off at every step. The 
French courtiers took them up and presented them to him; but 
he requested they would keep them, " with such a grace," says 
the Comte de Brienne, "that they could not refuse." Disdain- 
ing all meaner conquests, he made a declaration of love to the 
young Queen of France, and was heard without displeasure. 
He had a rival, who, though slighted, was yet formidable — Car- 
dinal Richelieu. That famous churchman openly affected in- 
trigues of gallantry. " He frequented the society of Marian de 
Lorme, the Aspasia of her time, and gave proof of his accom- 
plishments and complaisance to Anne of Austria by dancing, at 
her request, in the garb of pantaloon. The court ladies laughed 
at him ; the queen ridiculed and disdained him ; his love turned 
to gall ; and hence his persecution of that princess directly, and 
by means of her imbecile spouse." Brienne relates the droll 
scene : " the cardinal was desperately in love with a great 
princess, and made no secret of it ; respect for her memory for- 
bids me to name her. l Son eminence voulut mettre une terme 
a sa sterilite ; mats on Ven remercia civilement.' The princess 
and her confidante, Madame de Chevreuse, loved amusement, 
at that time at least, as much as intrigue. One day whilst they 
conversed tete-a-tete, and thought only of laughing at the amor- 
ous cardinal, ' He is passionately in love with you, Madam/ 
said the confidante, ' and would do any thing to please your 
majesty. Will you allow me to send him some evening to your 
chamber, dressed as a jack-pudding, to dance a saraband ?' The 
princess, young, gay, and, in short, a woman, took the confi- 
dante at her word. Richelieu, accepting the singular rendezvous, 
came, quite secure of his conquest, wearing a pantaloon of green 
velvet, with bells jingling at his knees, and castanets in his 
hands, and danced a saraband, while Borcan played on the 
violin behind a screen. The ladies laughed ' a gorge deploye ' 
(how could they do otherwise? I laugh at it myself after 50 
years) ; the cardinal declared his love in due form, the princess 
treated it as a farce (pantalonnade). The haughty prelate was 
so irritated that ever after his love was changed into hate, and 
the princess paid but too dearly for the pleasure of seeing an 
Eminence dance." 

Buckingham took his leave of Anne of Austria, " pique seu- 
lement," says Mademoiselle de Motteville, " de repasser le mer 
sans autre fruit de son amour que celui d'avoir ete favorable- 
ment ecoute." He returned to Paris, under pretence of a forgot- 
ten commission, to take a secret and impassioned leave of "the 
French queen, in spite of the jealous cardinal. The same 
writer has left an account of the duke's parting declaration of 



BIRTH OF LOUIS XIV. 6 

love to Anne, who behaved with all possible propriety. Miss 
Aiken, however, in her Memoirs of the Court of Charles I., is 
of opinion that that faithful waiting-woman varnished over the 
behaviour of her mistress, or (to use Madame de StaeTs phrase) 
painted her en bust e ; and, by a serious misapprehension, ima- 
gines Buckingham to have conducted himself with a degree of 
vivacity wholly inconsistent with the situation of the parties 
and of the text of Mde. de Motteville. Mr. Brodie is equally 
severe, and more figurative upon the memory and weakness (if 
she was weak) of the French queen. According to him, " an 
impure flame burned in her bosom." I am indebted to Dr. 
Lardner for these amusing anecdotes, 

Twenty-three years after the marriage of Louis with Anne 
of Austria, 1638, she presented him with a son, whose appear- 
ance being so unexpected, with the vivacity characteristic of the 
French, who dearly love a mot, the infant prince was called 
*■ Dieu-donne." At the birth of Louis XIV. the officers of the 
palace wished to clear the halls, &c, of the persons who were 
thronging to congratulate the king his father; but Louis XIII. 
ordered the doors of the room where the infant prince lay to be 
thrown open, saying aloud, " Enter, all of you! This child be- 
longs to the whole world !" At five years old, on May 14, 1643, 
he ascended the throne, in consequence of the death of his 
father Louis XIII., who had left a will appointing the queen 
Regent, and his brother Gaston, Duke of Orleans, lieutenant- 
general, under the impression that a salutary balance would be 
kept up by those rival influences ; as he himself had confidence 
in neither, so he limited their powers as guardians, and in- 
structed them to act in concert with a council of regency, of 
whom he appointed the Prince of Conde to be president. 

In the previous December, Cardinal Richelieu had died, 
whose genius and master-mind had so long governed France : 
but he is said to have made all politics subserve his own ambi- 
tion, that prompted him to the most tortuous courses — intrigues, 
promises, corruption, breaches of faith, were his tools, which, to 
use his own expression, " il couvrait de sa soutane rouge" (al- 
luding to his cardinal's hood). It is thought that his success was 
greatly attributable to the feebleness of his opponents : his admi- 
nistration was one of terror. He is said to have enlarged royal 
prerogative ; but this is incorrect, as we can conceive nothing 
in a more absolute condition than that in which it was handed 
down by Louis XL, Francis I., and Henry IV. Richelieu may 
be said to have pushed monarchical power to its extreme, for the 
sake of crushing his enemies ; and if the monarchy was stronger 
under him than after the death of Henry IV., it is only because 
power on that occasion passed into the hands of a female and a 
stranger, who suffered herself to be led by strangers ; and that 

b 2 



4 CONTRAST BETWEEN 

from her the sceptre fell to an infant king, altogether wanting 
in those qualifications which constitute a great sovereign. Ac- 
cording to the custom of foregoing times, Richelieu was proud 
of being a warrior; and having, in 1629, been appointed gene- 
ralissimo of the forces, as well as prime minister, he exhibited 
himself in the midst of armed soldiers, his clerical habit sur- 
mounted by the cuirass, a sword on his thigh, and a helmet on 
his head, preceded by two pages carrying other parts of his ac- 
coutrements. Following this pernicious example, the Cardinal 
de la Valette, the Cardinal Archbishop of Sourdis, and many 
other prelates, figured even on the field of battle. 

Richelieu conferred great benefits on France : the royal 
printing office, the Jardin des Plantes, the French Academy, the 
Sorbonne, and the Palais Royal, he either enlarged or founded. 
Being an author, he was accused of forcing favourable criticisms 
of his w r orks from the literati of the day. Like most authors, he 
devoured flattery with greediness. But a more just reproach is, 
he was a miserable economist, for he left more than 40,000,000 
of debt, and had anticipated the public revenue for three years. 
Under his able management, Louis XIII. received the name of 
11 the Just," — it would be difficult to say for what. Towards his 
mother he acted unfilially, in leaving her to pine and die in 
penury in a foreign land. Of a cold, phlegmatic temperament, 
if he had courage, it w r as the mere animal bravery of a soldier, as 
he was utterly incompetent to the higher duties of the leader of 
armies. The history of France, under this feeble prince, adds 
another to the instances on record of a people being happy un- 
der one who reigns without governing — a kind of King Log. 

Mazarin secretly led Anne, and by his advice she held a bed 
of justice: through flattering the parliament she secured a sim- 
ple regency, unrestricted by the fences with which Louis XIII. 
had surrounded it. This absolute regency, that may be consi- 
dered as the first division of the long reign of Louis XIV., cor- 
responded too strikingly with the regency of Mary of Medicis 
under the influence of Concini. He w T as better known by the 
name of Marshal d'Ancre. Being a Florentine, he w r ent to 
France in the suite of Mary of Medicis, wife of Henry the 
Great. By his intrigues, and those of his wife Eleonora Galigay, 
he became, from a gentleman of the bed-chamber, a Marquis 
and a Marshal of France. The enemies which his elevation and 
his pride procured, contrived his ruin. Louis XIII. was pre- 
vailed upon to get rid of this dangerous favourite, and Concini 
w r as shot by Vitry and his accomplices on the Louvre bridge, 
April 24, 1617, and his body was ignominiously insulted by the 
populace. His wife also lost her head, and his son was declared 
incapable to hold any office in the kingdom. When his wife 
was accused of witchcraft, in influencing the mind of the queen, 



RICHELIEU AND MAZARIN. 5 

she said her magic was only the influence of a great mind over 
a weak one. There certainly was this difference between the 
regency of Mary of Medicis, and that of Anne of Austria, 
that, whereas the grossness of nobles and courtezans stood out 
in bolder relief under the three sons of Henry II., the privi- 
leged classes during the minority of Louis XIV. covered their 
debaucheries with a varnish of civilization which softened down 
the coarseness of feudal manners. On the other hand Mazarin, 
much more supple and cunning than Richelieu, arrived at the 
same end, though employing different means. Richelieu grap- 
pled with, and crushed, opposition ; Mazarin undermined it at 
its base, deprived it of external succour, and caused it to destroy 
itself. The enemies of Richelieu saw, or thought they saw, in 
Mazarin, intentions to follow the same policy ; they affected to 
dread a recurrence of a reign of terror, and formed a clique 
against the court, to which Gaston and the princes who acted 
with him joined themselves. Anne had enough of imperious- 
ness, would gladly have governed if she had had capacity for 
despotism, but wanted that talent which alone causes a tyrant 
to be at once feared and respected. The French appear to have 
considered the custom by which the regency was given to the 
king's mother almost as fundamental a law as that which ex- 
cludes females from the crown, Voltaire satirically remarks. 

The funeral of Louis XIII. was honoured by a signal victory, 
which threw a lustre on the beginning of a reign destined to be 
at once the most lengthened and most glorious of the French 
monarchy, Anne had been compelled to continue the war against 
her brother the fourth Philip of Spain ; any clearer reason than 
that both nations had been at war ever since 1634, because Ri- 
chelieu had so willed it, can scarcely be discovered. The main 
branch of the war was in Flanders, the Spaniards there having 
26,000 men under an experienced general, Don Franciso de 
Melos. Ravaging Champagne, they attacked Rocroi, and seeing 
themselves opposed by an army greatly inferior in numbers, led 
by an inexperienced young man, not yet 21, who was placed 
under the counsel of the Marshal de l'Hopital, they considered 
their success certain. Never was a greater mistake : as Voltaire 
says, this prince was born a general — war, as an art, was in him 
by instinct ; so was coolness — for, like Alexander under similar 
circumstances, after having forced his Mentor to give way to his 
youthful impetuosity, and having himself seen to all the dispo- 
sitions of his own army, he slept so profoundly that it was neces- 
sary to wake him in the morning. The Duke d'Enghien, after- 
wards celebrated under the designation of the Prince of Conde, 
on this occasion created high expectations of what he would be- 
come. This was the first time he had appeared at the head of 
armies, and he fleshed his maiden sword on the plains of Rocroi, 



6 CONQUESTS OF THE FRENCH. 

where he annihilated the redoutable Spanish infantry that had 
been noted for its valour and discipline for 150 years. The old 
Count de Fuentes, who led the Spanish infantry, died in the bat- 
tle quite covered with wounds, and Conde, being told of it, said 
that he would have died like him if he had not conquered. 
This victory, achieved by a general of 20 years old, acquired for 
France a superiority which she sustained on the field of Fribourg 
in 1644, in the battle of Nordlingen in 1645, and at Lens in 
1648. The war lasted 14 years, nor was there one campaign 
wanting in glory — according to French historians. What other 
benefits could have resulted from this unchristian perseverance 
in the spilling of human blood one is at a loss to imagine ; but 
it seems quite enough, to satisfy our lively neighbours, that " il 
n'y avoit pas de campagne qui ne fut marquee par des con- 
quetes." It was the misfortune of Henry IV. only over his own 
people to gain great advantages ; but here we see advantages 
gained over ancient enemies ; for the battle of Rocroi was ra- 
pidly followed up by his taking Cirq, and driving the Germans 
across the Rhine. At Fribourg and Nordlingen, Conde's glory 
was raised higher by splendid victories. The brilliancy of French 
success, they say, led to the treaty of Munster, which assigned 
Alsace and other domains to France ; restricted within narrow 
bounds the imperial authority ; but which some writers lament 
sacrificed the interests of the Catholic Church to the Swedes 
and other German Protestants, their allies. Spain was not com- 
prised in this treaty, reminiscences of her ancient splendour 
persuading her that, like the classic bird, she would yet rise 
from her ashes ; but, more courageous than strong, it had long 
been a hard struggle to her, and she must have sunk before the 
vast power of France but for the intestine divisions by which 
her rival was torn and weakened. To witness such success by 
the French — such misfortunes endured by the house of Austria 
— one would be inclined to think that Vienna and Madrid only 
waited for the command of the enemy to open their gates, and 
that the Emperor and the King of Spain were almost without 
dominions ! Notwithstanding, five years of glory — scarcely dim- 
med by a cloud of misfortune — had left France few real benefits ; 
and that country, surrounded by this splendid halo, was on the 
brink of destruction. 

Anne of Austria was popular — this cannot be said of her 
confidential minister. Julius Mazarin was born at Abruzzo, in 
Italy, July 14, 1602. His abilities in early life were conspicu- 
ous ; and he recommended himself to the pope by his success- 
ful intrigues to prevent a battle between the French and Spa- 
niards before Casal : this secured the good opinion of Cardinal 
Richelieu and of Louis XIII., who was so pleased as to entrust 
the seals to Mazarin, and appoint him vice-legate to Avignon. 



PARISIAN EMEUTES. 7 

I shall presently show my reader how he became prime minis- 
ter. He now was rudely handled in the parliament of Paris, 
where several conseillers (corresponding w r ith our term M.P.) 
declaimed against the hardship of the taxes, and the misappro- 
priation of the public revenue, with a force which soon attract- 
ed the regards of the citizens, who urged on the parliament to 
strong opposition to the court, that had been unguarded enough 
to interfere with the " cour des comptes" and the " cour des 
aides," which bodies, emanating'from the parliament itself, threw 
themselves upon it for support. This was met by a resolution 
that it should thenceforward register no edict contrary to the 
people; and shortly afterwards they passed the famous " arret 
cTunion" between all the sovereign courts and parliaments of 
the kingdom. By this act (which, in his Italian pronunciation, 
Mazarin called " Farret d'oignon") the parliament, daily growing 
bolder, assumed the right to censure the acts of the executive, 
and of examining arrests made by the council. The queen, 
either to ward off prospective evils, or from a feeling of grati- 
tude, meant to assent to the passing of this edict. But this 
very giving way incited the parliament to put forth fresh claims 
to constitute themselves a political council, the representatives 
of the people, and even the administration itself — for they 
proceeded to pass a law to abolish the intendants of provinces 
whom Louis XIII. had instituted. 

The regent had many other sources of abundant vexation : 
she could not appear in public without being insulted ; they 
called her Dame Anne, and any addition, in no very mannerly 
way, signified her lack of virtue. In short, she was the sport 
of the wit and malignity of Paris ; all which so irritated Anne 
that she caused Potier de Blancmenil and Brousset, the pre- 
sident, to be arrested, who in consequence were dubbed, the 
one " the father of the people." and the other " the patriarch 
of the Fronde." In this step the court reckoned too much 
on its authority, and neglected necessary precautions to sup- 
port the strong measures intended. The first news of the 
imprisonment of the two members created a violent sedition 
— all Paris was up in arms — barricades were raised in the 
streets, and the regent and the cardinal were blockaded in 
the palace, which the enraged mob vowed they would level 
with the ground. So that the court was reduced to the neces- 
sity of giving way ; the two members were released, and re- 
conducted, on the shoulders of the people, amidst their shouts 
and the fire of musketry from the Parisians. The title of this 
important party, Frondeurs, as they shall be called through- 
out this work, means " sticklers " — i. e. anti-courtiers, who 
dwelt much on popular rights, ministerial tyranny, and all 
government abuses. The French, according to D'Anquetil, 



8 BRIEF MEMOIR OF 

were content with high-sounding words, ran with avidity after 
those whose cry was Liberty, and did not see that they were 
gainers of nothing but troubles which caused them to be more 
unhappy than they were before. In opposition to the Frondeurs, 
the adherents of the court party were styled Mazarins, and a 
third party were named Mitiges, which consisted of those who 
did not choose to be ranked with either of the other parties, 
and who, in the lively observation of the same writer, waited to 
range themselves on the side of the conqueror. The two 
members, who had been arrested, were with others at the 
moment celebrating " Te Deum," in the cathedral of Paris, for 
the celebrated victory of Lens. 

The master-spirit, that directed the whirlwind, being indeed 
no common man, I may be excused for bringing him on the 
tapis with greater notice than falls to the lot of most of those 
who either fluttered their day as the mere spuma on the stormy 
currents of life, or soon sunk as faciilce to the bottom. The 
house of Gondy to which he belonged was originally of Flo- 
rence ; Anthony abandoned his country at the commencement 
of the 16th century, and established himself at Lyons, where he 
lived in splendour. A descendant became Duke of Retz, Mar- 
quis de Belle-isle, Peer and Marshal of France, &c, and from 
him sprung this remarkable man, the power of whose super- 
lative talents was so long felt in France. In his characteristic 
auto-biography, he tells us that, on the day of his birth, a 
monstrous sturgeon was caught in a little river which runs 
through Montmerail-en-Brie, where his mother was confined. 
Not considering himself of sufficient importance to have had 
his existence ushered in by an augury, he would not have men- 
tioned such a matter but that, as he had so figured on the stage 
of life, and as his libellers had made the most of it, it would 
have looked like affectation to omit it. Having relatives who 
had climbed the ladder of clerical promotion to a very high 
round, De Retz himself was destined for the church. During his 
scholastic course, a little after De Retz left college, his gover- 
nor's valet-de-chambre discovered a girl of astonishing beauty, 
living in indigence with an aunt who secured a wretched main- 
tenance as a pin-maker. He took her away, after hiring a little 
house at Issi — De Retz having furnished him with means so to 
do — and having placed his sister to take care of her, the day 
after went himself to see the poor girl : he found her in extreme 
dejection, which could easily be accounted for. The next day 
he discovered that her natural understanding was even more re- 
markable than her beauty, and that is saying a great deal : she 
spoke with prudence, and a sense of religion — always without 
passion. She restrained her tears ; but she dreaded her aunt to 
a degree that quite distressed De Retz, who, profligate as he was, 



DE RETZ. 9 

after vain attempts on her virtue, became conscious of his own 
infamy, and, conquering the temptation, took her in his carriage 
to his aunt Maignelai, who placed her in a convent, where she 
died eight or ten years afterwards in all the odour of sanctity. 
The poor girl told this kind lady, such was her misery with her 
aunt that she should at length have consented to De Retz's 
terms ; and Mde. de Maignelai was so pleased with her nephew 
that she told M. de Lizieux ; who, on his part, thought it right 
to tell the king the same day at dinner. 

On another occasion, which, by the bye, was before the 
honourable instance of noble conduct just recorded, De Retz 
had been hunting at Fontainbleau, with the Marquis de Cour- 
tenvaux, first gentleman of the chamber, and, as the horses of 
De Retz were jaded, he took post for Paris. In those days, my 
readers must know, that taking post might mean hiring horses, 
as in England, to put to a carriage, or being supplied with 
saddle horses, then more usual. The animal on which De Retz 
rode being more able than that of his valet-de-chambre, or of 
his governor, who accompanied him, he first arrived at Juvisi, 
and there selected a fresh horse that had just been saddled for 
him ; when Contenau, captain of light-horse to the king (a 
brave, but extravagant man), coming post also, ordered the 
saddle of De Retz to be removed from the horse De Retz had 
chosen, and his own to be put thereon. This military non-cha- 
lance not exactly suiting our young fire-eater, he advanced, and 
politely observed to the officer that there must be some mis- 
take, &c. He of moustaches and cocked-hat terrors made no 
more ado but, without the unnecessary expenditure of time which 
words would have entailed, gave to the scholar-looking young 
De Retz a tremendous box on the ear, that at once caused the 
blood to flow. The latter immediately drew his sword, as did 
the bold soldier, whose foot slipped, thus at the first pass the offi- 
cer fell, in the fall his sword dropped out of his hand. De Retz 
retreated a step or two, and told him to take up his sword; the 
officer did so, but by the point, presenting it to the future cardi- 
nal respectfully, and at the same time asking his pardon for the 
affront ; this he repeated strongly before De Retz's governor, who 
by this time had come up. This son of Mars had generosity 
enough to inform the king (Louis XIII.) of De Retz's bravery, 
which his situation about the court, and his familiarity with his 
majesty, gave him opportunity to do ; and these two occurrences 
caused the favourable introduction of De Retz at court. 

The Count of Brion (Francois Christophe de Levi de Vanta- 
dour, who died in 1661) was enamoured of Mile, de Vendome, 
afterwards Madame de Nemours. He was a great friend of 
Turenne, who, to afford the Count more frequent opportunities 
of seeing the young lady, invited him to join him at the country 

b5 



10 CURIOUS INCIDENT TO 

residence of M. de Lizieux, a dignitary of the church, who 
always took up his abode when at Paris at the Hotel de Ne- 
mours ; and, as visits were interchanged, Mademoiselle de Ven- 
dome was now at M. de Lizieux's, where the great Turenne was 
also visiting. The Count had twice been a capuchin friar, and 
always made a hotch-potch of saintship and sinnership ; he pre- 
tended to seek M. de Lizieux for spiritual counsel, nor would 
he budge from the conferences that were very often held among 
the trio (M. de Lizieux, De Retz, and Turenne) — and which 
were always carried on in the apartment of Mademoiselle de 
Vendome. Brion wanted not wit, but had too much mannerism, 
and this, w r ith the peculiar way of Turenne, and the indolent 
mien of Mademoiselle, led De Retz always to think every thing 
just as it should be. These grave conferences often ended in 
promenading in the garden : once, the late Madame de Choisi 
proposed a ride to St. Cloud, and that a little play should be 
got up : Lizieux said he w T ould make no difficulty, provided it 
was only a small party, and in the country. Waiting for the 
actors that night, who were detained at the Cardinal's, the party, 
consisting of Mademoiselle Vendome and her mother, Madame 
de Choisi, Turenne, Brion, and De Retz, amused themselves 
with dancing to the sound of violins: Mademoiselle danced 
alone afterwards, and so they w r ent on till towards morning. 

It w r as in the height of summer : they were at the foot of 
the descent then called Bonshommes : just as they arrived at the 
bottom, the coach suddenly stopped. De Retz sat with Made- 
moiselle at one of the doors ; he promptly demanded why the 
coach stopped ? the coachman answered, with considerable agi- 
tation, " Would you have me pass through all the devils which 
are before me?" Putting his head out of the coach window, 
being near-sighted, De Retz could see nothing: Madame de 
Choisi was at the opposite window with Turenne, she was the 
first who discovered the cause of alarm ; five or six lacqueys 
that were behind, trembling with fear, exclaimed, "Jesus, 
Maria !" Turenne jumped out of the coach at the cry of 
Madame de Choisi : De Retz, thinking they were stopped by 
thieves, also got out on his side, and, snatching a sword from 
one of the lacqueys, unsheathed it, and placed himself by the 
side of Turenne, whom he found attentively beholding some 
objects which his own short-sightedness prevented his making 
out. Enquiring of Turenne what was the matter, he answered 
in a half-whisper, gently pressing the arm of De Retz, " IT1 tell 

you — but we must not frighten the ladies " who screamed 

more than they wept, so that an "oremus" was set up in the 
carriage. Madame de Choisi uttered the shrillest sounds ; Ma- 
demoiselle de Vendome told her beads ; her mother wished to 
confess to M. de Lizieux, who said to her, " My child, have no 



TURENNE AND DE UETZ. 11 

fear — you are in tlie hands of God." Brion had devoutly 
thrown himself upon his knees, and, with the lacqueys, was say- 
ing the Litany of the Virgin ! All this passed pretty near as 
quickly as told. Turenne, who had a little sword by his side, 
which he had drawn, turned to De Retz with the same coolness 
with which he would have asked for his dinner, or would have 
given battle, and said, " Come, let us look at those gentry." 
De Retz answered, " Who ?" and says, he verily thought all the 
world was gone mad together. Turenne seriously said, " In 
good truth it does look as if these should be devils." As the 
two now approached the cause of terror, De Retz thought he 
saw a long procession of black phantoms, which created in him 
more emotion than the great Turenne was affected with, and 
caused him to make a more lively move than the cool general 
was capable of. The two ran, sword in hand, towards the devils 
— those in the coach witnessing the rush, in an agony of alarm, 
screamed out at the expected supernatural encounter ! The 
warrior and the future warlike cardinal were stopped by the 
alarm of the devils, who turned out to be a company of black 
Capuchins without shoes or stockings, one of whom, advanc- 
ing, addressed the threatening Turenne and his companion : — 
" Gentlemen, we are poor religious, who are injuring no one, 
and have merely been to refresh ourselves by bathing in the 
river for health, as well as comfort." De Retz and Turenne 
returned to the carriage, bursting with laughter; and simulta- 
neously made two reflections, which, when they were alone next 
day, they communicated to each other. His companion thought 
the first apparition of these imaginary spectres delighted 
Turenne, although he himself had always previously said he 
expected any supernatural appearance would alarm him. De 
Retz owns that the first impressions he received were more 
moving than he could have wished, as he had always longed for 
a sight of spirits. The second observation they made was that 
nearly all that is read in the histories of most characters is 
false. Turenne declared he had not the slightest emotion, 
though De Retz might have conceived, from his cautious way, he 
was uneasy ; and De Retz confessed he had fear at first, though 
Turenne said, from his altogether unembarrassed air, he thought 
he had no other sensation than of spirit and animation. 

Mademoiselle de Vendome conceived unutterable contempt 
for poor Brion, who certainly had cut a most ridiculous figure 
in this adventure. She amused herself with De Retz after they 
were again seated in the coach, and observed that she felt she 
was a true grand- daughter of Henry the Great from the admira- 
tion in which she held courage. And to De Retz she said, he 
could have feared nothing, because of his ease on this occasion. 
" I did fear, Mademoiselle," he replied, " but not being so reli- 



12 EARLY QUARREL BETWEEN 

gious as Brion, my alarm did not drive me to the Litany ! " You 
had none," she said, " nor do I believe you fear devils; for 
Turenne, whose courage is beyond question, was himself struck, 
and did not move so quickly as you." De Retz confesses he 
was gratified with the compliment conveyed in this distinction, 
and it put it into his head to say some soft things : " We can 
believe in the existence of the devil, and not fear him ; there are 
more terrible things in the world." " And what ?" asked Made- 
moiselle. " They are so very powerful," replied the cunning 
flatterer, " that I dare not name them." Pretending not to un- 
derstand this compliment to the brilliancy of her eyes, she 
joined in the general conversation ; the coach put them down, 
and they separated for their respective homes. She afterwards 
confessed she understood De Retz well enough. 

The king soon presented De Retz to the bishoprick of Agde, 
a quiet little clerical cushion, having only 22 parishes, and a 
considerable annual income. Now the devotion of this cele- 
brated Frondeur was not of that order which would lead to the 
placid discharge of ecclesiastical duties in the country; and 
therefore, in a state of considerable embarrassment, he waited 
on the king and told him, after the warmest expressions of gra- 
titude, that he could but shrink from the responsibility of a 
remote bishopric, as, at his age, he must needs want that grave 
counsel and spiritual aid which was so much more abundant in 
Paris ! It was, he confesses, hazardous to his future prospects — 
but he was fortunate— the king was well pleased. Louis XIII. 
died immediately afterwards ; the incompetent Duke of Beau- 
fort took the lead, and his miserable deficiency soon becoming 
apparent, the queen regent commissioned De Retz to offer the 
first office to his father Philip-Emmanuel de Gondi, Count of 
Joigny. Having retired from the distraction of life to the 
Brethren of the Oratory, he obstinately refused again to be- 
come immersed in its cares : the queen next sent for Mazarin, 
to whom she entrusted the seals of ofiice. De Retz himself, at 
the instigation of his aunt Maignelai and M. de Lizieux, was 
appointed coadjutor to the Archbishop of Paris ; on the occasion 
of the queen's formally conferring that benefit, she publicly 
announced that, on the evening before his death, his late ma- 
jesty had directed her to confer that distinction upon him, as he 
hod never forgotten the instances of his virtue and courage, 
which I have given. 

Having availed myself of an opportunity of impressing my 
reader with the character of De Retz, and incidentally shown 
how Mazarin was brought forward, I return to the narrative 
of the events following !he arrest of Broussel. In the heat of 
the tumult which occurred on August 26, the coadjutor of the 
Archbishop of Paris, subsequently known as the Cardinal de 



DE RETZ AND MAZARIN. 13 

Retz, placed himself before the people, whom he endeavoured 
to pacify by soothing words, to which if they listened, it was 
but to renew the revolt : he then repaired to the Palais Royal, 
to discuss with the regent measures to appease the popular 
clamour. His demeanour and character warrant the belief 
that in these endeavours he was prompted by a desire of popu- 
larity, and a crafty design, by being privy to the secrets of the 
royal breast, to turn any hasty expressions which might escape 
hereafter against the court. The vox populi was more directed 
to the mortification of Mazarin than to the enlargement of 
Broussel. The cause of quarrel between Mazarin and De Retz 
is said to have been the vexation of the latter at his refusing 
him an office which the cardinal conferred on the Duke of Mont- 
bazon ; and that, on occasion of one of the numerous tumults of 
Paris, De Retz in his pontificals went out among the mob, show- 
ering down his episcopal " benedictions ;" and then repairing 
to the Palais Royal, on deprecating the violence of the court, the 
queen, her immediate partisans, and the cardinal, sneered and 
flouted at De Retz, so as to leave on the mind of that able man 
an enduring disgust towards Mazarin. 

However, the parliamentary triumph gave importance to 
the popular party, which would now gladly have taken Conde 
for its head; but, being at the head of the army, he yet 
adhered to the court. De Retz determined to make De Conti, 
Conde's younger brother, the recognized leader, not that he 
expected him to be of greater use than could be derived from 
the eclat consequent on his being of the royal blood. He was 
urged to gain his sister, the Duchess of Longueville. The 
Dukes of Beaufort, Bouillon, and Elbeuf, with many other 
nobles, became leaders of the Fronde, all recognizing De Retz 
as the soul of action. Anne departed for Ruel, with Mazarin 
and the young king, not considering herself safe at Paris. Ne- 
gotiations took place, which led to the return of the court to 
Paris; but on January 6, 1648, in the middle of the night, the 
queen, accompanied by Mazarin and her two sons, the king and 
the Duke d'Anjou, stole away from the city by the Conference 
Gate, and reached in safety the chateau of St. Germain-en-Laye. 
On the next day the queen directed the parliament to repair to 
Montargis, which they would not do, but sent a deputation to 
St. Germain, when the queen on her part refused to receive the 
deputies. The royal army environed Paris, St. Cloud, St. Denis, 
and Charenton. On the other hand, the Frondeurs now raised 
troops ; De Retz, who was the titular Archbishop of Corinth, 
equipped a regiment of cavalry, and, habited like a soldier, 
himself, on horseback, reviewed these troops, and has the 
merit, according to Voltaire, of having been the first bishop who 
ever carried on a civil war without the mask of religion ! The fire 



14 FRENCH SPRIGHTLINESS. 

of genius, which characterised this extraordinary man, hreathed 
only faction and sedition — it was his very element : at the age of 
23, he had been at the head of a conspiracy against the life of 
Richelieu ; and such was the remarkable power of his fascination 
that he prevailed on the parliament to erect its standard against 
the court, even before they had gained the support of a single 
prince of the blood. 

Meanwhile the defence of Paris was not neglected; the 
Bastile was placed under the command of Broussel and his son, 
and the common people (bourgeois) were armed, guarded all the 
posts, and made several sorties. This most ridiculous war be- 
came a laughing-stock to our gay neighbours themselves: 
Conde beseiging 500,000 with 8,000 ! The^Parisians quitted the 
city, and came out into the fields, many of them dressed with 
feathers and ribbons ; their exercises were the jest of the regu- 
lar troops. Upon the approach of only 100 or 200 of the royal 
soldiers, they would take to flight — every thing was turned into 
ridicule : the regiment of the coadjutor (named, after his bishop- 
rick, the Corinthians), being defeated by a small party of the 
regulars, this repulse was called the first Epistle to the Corin- 
thians ! On the side of the royalists there was no serious at- 
tack, for Mazarin reckoned more on intrigue than violence ; he 
meant to create a party in the parliament, and as our Walpole 
said every man had his price, so he had too much knowledge of 
human nature to shrink from offering splendid, which turned 
out successful, bribes to the Prince de Conti, the Dukes of Bouil- 
lon, Longueville, and Elbeuf, who, according to the historians 
of the period, held themselves in readiness for the highest bid- 
ders. The Duke of Beaufort, a man, according to De Retz, of 
intellect below mediocrity, and who was nicknamed " le Roi des 
Halles," (the same as if we should say, in London, " king of 
Wapping, or Billingsgate,) would not yet join the court. Unable 
to sustain a war, the " Frondeurs" accepted peace; and while 
hostilities were suspended, through the safety-valve of the press, 
they let off innumerable pamphlets, directed mainly against 
Mazarin, not sparing the regent. As traits developing the pecu- 
liarities of the Gauls, it will amuse the reader to inform him that 
on the coadjutor's taking his seat in parliament, with a poinard 
sticking out of his pocket, several lively members cried out, 
11 See ! there is our Archbishop's breviary I" And in the midst 
of all this fearful confusion the nobility assembled in a body at 
the Augustines, appointed syndics, and had regular public meet- 
ings — leading to the notion that their design was to remedy 
these dreadful disorders ; but the only business they discussed 
was a tabouret (meaning leave to sit down in the presence of 
the queen — which favour is peculiar to duchesses) that Anne 
had granted to Madame de Pons ! Voltaire hereon remarks 



HOLLOW RECONCILIATIONS. 15 

justly, that perhaps never was so marked a proof given of the 
lightness of the French; and it came out in strong contrast 
with the conduct of the popular leaders at the same period in 
England; who, continues the same writer, in their civil discords 
showed a melancholy cruelty and a sensible madness — their 
battles were bloody ; they decided all things by the sword ; 
scaffolds were erected for the vanquished. Their king, being 
taken prisoner, was brought before a court of justice, questioned 
concerning the abuse of his power — condemned to lose his head 
— and was executed in the presence of all his people, with 
great order, and the same formality of justice as if it had been 
the execution of one of his subjects — nor was London, through- 
out these sad troubles, ever affected by the calamities generally 
attendant on civil wars. 

The court re-entered Paris on August 16, 1649, and at once 
commenced negociations which had no other object than to 
see which party could deceive the other: the Prince de Conde 
espoused the Fronde. This peace, in point of fact, was but a 
suspension of arms, but not of cabals : however, part of the 
terms was an amnesty for all but De Retz, who was too power- 
ful yet for Mazarin to attack openly, therefore secret interviews 
were held by the crafty minister with Beaufort and De Retz ; 
which latter too much depended on his popularity to risk it by 
an open adjustment with the cardinal. And yet, not wishing to 
close the door against future reception by the court, the coadju- 
tor kept up underhand communication with those about the 
regent, and contrived skilfully to maintain an undiminished 
influence with the popular party. 

The youthful king had been kept from the metropolis while 
matters remained in so stormy a condition, nor would Mazarin 
consent to his return until tranquillity was completely restored. 
Conde and the Duke of Orleans visited Paris, and were received 
with great applause by the citizens ; but, with other leaders of 
the recent and formidable sedition, were but coldly received at 
court by the regent, although Mazarin was as supple as a 
willow. Conde had been alienated from his fair sister, the 
Duchess of Longueville — he had used violent language to her — 
he had prejudiced her husband against her ; but now a recon- 
ciliation was effected between them — all bitterness was forgot- 
ten, and her influence soon placed him in scornful opposition to 
Mazarin. Herself haughty, and ever disliking Anne of Austria, 
after the hollow reconciliation which terminated the siege of 
Paris, it was necessary she should appear at court : her husband, 
followed by a numerous and splendid train, arrived first, and 
was received by the queen in the midst of her court. Mazarin 
standing beside her. General interest was excited to hear the 
sort of apology he would make — but in a state of embarrass- 



16 THE BEAUTIFUL DE LONGUEVILLE. 

ment — turning red and pale by turns, the duke was unable to 
speak. Mazarin relieved him by drawing him aside to a win- 
dow, and detaining him for some time in private conversation ; 
after which, they were, to all outward appearance, cordial. His 
fair duchess visited the queen in bed— as was the fashion of 
those times ; she blushed, as she was apt to do, so exceedingly 
as to add to the extreme charms of her dazzling beauty ; her 
speech was too confused for the queen to understand a word of 
what she said. This famous beauty had so inflamed Turenne 
with a passion, at which she laughed, that he failed in honour 
and duty when she insisted on his causing the army he com- 
manded to revolt from its allegiance to the king. The Duke 
de la Rochefoucault was also one of her slaves; and, having 
been wounded, as we shall see in the battle of St. Anthony, he 
thereby for some time lost his sight — during his sufferings, he 
wrote a smart couplet : a 

" Pour meriter son coeur, pour plaire a ses beaux yeux, 
J'ai fait la guerre aux rois, et j'aurois faite aux Dieux." 

Which has been translated, 

To please her bright eyes, gain the heav'n of her love, 
I have warr'd against kings, and would war against Jove. 

The French ever seem to have been swayed by wantonness 
and caprice — women were at the head of factions, and cabals 
were formed and dissipated by love. 

The Parisians, to their praise be it recorded, manifested none 
of the truculence of their selfish leaders. Nor did that demon- 
stration of their opposition to the court, which at once their habits 
and their taste rendered usual, pass away with the peace: they 
diverted themselves with street oratory, songs, and other gross 
and insulting exhibitions, and the cunning De Retz saw in these 
dispositions an abundant store of weapons ready for future 
warfare. But the parliament, thinking matters had gone far 
enough, now turned round on the very agitators whom it had 
before encouraged, and set about punishing one who was stated 
to have composed a paper on the proceedings of parliament 
relative to Conde. Beauton was the person whom they endea- 
voured to proceed against by an old law, the penalty of which 
was death— he was thrown into a dungeon, and the court had 
the worst intentions towards him; but, through the zealous 
exertions of some of the more just and able barristers, he got 
off— though in truth the real delinquent was a person of the 
name of Portail. His acquittal called forth an exuberant crop 
of libels, in the form of defences of the accused, in vile lan- 
guage, conveying the common and gross imputations against 
the queen : two of which from their unenviable celebrity may 
be mentioned—" Jeu de Tric-trac," and " Custode." Marlot who 



MAZARIN AND CONDE. 17 

printed the last, was condemned for that offence to be hanged, 
and being, by the usual authorities, led towards the Place de 
Greve, a mob, composed of printers' devils and the inferior 
servants of booksellers, in great strength, attacked the archers, 
whose resistance caused a still larger and more riotous assem- 
blage, by whom the guards were beat, and the unhappy pri- 
soner set at liberty. Mazarin, becoming alarmed at this fresh 
storm, sought aid of the only two men who could help him, the 
Duke of Beaufort and De Retz. The latter, though now of 
notoriously profligate habits, under a pretence of unwilling- 
ness — (like protestant bishops, ■' Nolo episcopari,") — anxiously 
coveted a cardinal's hat : the wily cardinal held up the scarlet 
gratification to the popular leader. 

The prince of Conde made most extravagant demands as 
the price of cessation from hostilities, to be paid to himself 
and his two brothers. A curious tale is recorded of Mazarin's 
inviting him to an entertainment, to worm out of him what 
really would satisfy his rapacity ; to which end he so far caused 
him to be inebriated as to throw Conde off his guard, when he 
levelled his fuddled wit at the poor cardinal's terror, and so 
otherwise annoyed Mazarin as to leave a store of bitterness 
ready for the day of revenge. Mazarin had always wanted to 
dispose of the post of high admiral to some nobleman who 
would marry one of his nieces. It had now fallen vacant, and 
Conde demanded it: a fresh root of bitterness sprang up by the 
minister's determination to use this grand bait for the twofold 
purpose of winning the Duke of Beaufort, by making over to 
him the coveted honour at the death of his father, the Duke de 
Vendome, who was to receive the appointment on condition 
that his eldest son (brother to Beaufort) , the Due De Mercceur, 
should marry Mademoiselle de Mancini. Urged on by his rela- 
tives, Conde manifested daily more and more his mortification, 
and at last fairly told the cardinal, should the projected marriage 
take place, he must not reckon him among his friends. The 
court retired to Compiegne, while Mazarin and De Retz kept 
negociating ; meanwhile, in the spirit of aristocratic swagger, 
many young nobles agreed to insult the leaders of the Fronde, 
and, after having long borne with the irritation, the latter at 
length determined on reprisals. Under the direction of De 
Retz, — who, of course, was kept in the back-ground, — they at- 
tacked one of the cavaliers, a person of small consideration 
named Jerze. This led to a general skirmish ; at length the 
riot was stopped. The Duke of Candale challenged the Duke of 
Beaufort, which " satisfaction" was refused, and the latter af- 
fected to go about in fear of his life surrounded with an armed 
train : at last, the Duke of Orleans effected an adjustment 
between Candale and Beaufort. 



18 RETURN OF MAZARIN 

The bustle of this noisy riot over, the Duke of Beaufort was 
seized with a violent attack of cholic, which he found it con- 
venient to attribute to being poisoned by Mazarin : the politi- 
cal partisans in public made the most of this affair, while in 
secret they laughed at the idea. His gates were day and night 
surrounded by anxious inquirers ; the doors of his hotel were 
thrown open, the curtains of his bed drawn aside, and the po- 
pulace were allowed to walk through the room in which he lay, 
like a corpse, in state. On witnessing his condition, many cast 
themselves on their knees and wept for the saviour of their coun- 
try ! The perpetual recurrence of such scenes annoyed Mazarin 
greatly; and his embarrassments w T ere further multiplied by 
the increasing defalcation of the revenue. Having been, both 
by citizens and parliament, driven away from the post of minis- 
ter of finance, Emery, w T ho had genius for the difficulty, was 
longed for by Mazarin. But he was too timid to act in open de- 
fiance of the chamber, therefore he set about an intrigue, and, 
by never mentioning Emery's name, and proposing De Maison, 
thought perhaps his political adversaries would, out of sheer 
opposition, bring back the proscribed financier. But he failed; 
the influence in favour of De Maison so strengthened that the 
cardinal was caught in his own toils, and compelled to ratify the 
appointment. Mazarin's administration was further damaged 
by the ill turn affairs took in relation to Spain, which power 
took Ypres and St.Venant, and compelled the French general to 
raise the siege of Cambray. With an army of 32,000 men and 
82 pieces of artillery, they were frustrated by the enemy; which 
was partly attributed to their being so ill paid, and partly to an 
idea that Turenne, who led them, was still guided by correspon- 
dence with the Fronde. Many causes now operated towards 
the return of the court to Paris, and the Prince of Conde and 
the Duke of Orleans agreed to effect the king's return to the 
capital ; on learning which, De Retz thought it too good a card 
to play for himself to lose it, and therefore set about securing 
the praise of the measure — to which end he caused it to be 
carefully insinuated to Mazarin that there was nothing the 
Frondeurs so much dreaded. He then went to the queen, 
whom he persuaded to revisit Paris : and while he affected to 
treat Mazarin with contempt, the two crafty ecclesiastics had an 
interview during the night, in which all necessary arrangements 
were made. 

So great was the distress from the confused state of affairs 
that the courtiers and servants of the crown were obliged to dis- 
charge their pages, the crown jewels were pawned, the royal 
carriages were tumbling to pieces for want of repair, the king's 
sheets were so full of holes that his feet went through to the 
blankets. He looked like some of our " lucky" school-boys, 



AND THE COURT TO PARIS. 19 

who, belonging to the rising generation, have risen so fast that 
a space of two or more inches has grown between their jackets 
and trowsers. So Louis XIV. — and let this console those rising 
characters whose ambition would clutch new clothes — during 
this whole summer wore a green velvet dressing-gown, which 
Madame de Motteville tells us scarcely half covered him. They 
were forced to dismiss the pages of the chamber, because they 
were unable to maintain them. Upon this occasion, also, even 
the aunt of Louis XIV., daughter to Henry the Great, and con- 
sort of Charles I., King of England, having taken refuge in Paris, 
was there reduced to the extremity of poverty ; and her daugh- 
ter Henrietta, afterwards married to the brother of Louis XIV., 
lay in bed for want of fire to warm her. The people of Paris, 
being in a manner possessed and intoxicated by their rage and 
fury, paid no regard to the distresses of so many royal person- 
ages. Anne, with tears, begged the Prince of Conde to be the 
king's protector, which was too flattering a function for him to 
refuse. Funds could not be had but by the return of the court 
to Paris, and the reluctant cardinal at length seriously con- 
templated adopting that measure. Previously he went to the 
Low Countries, to communicate with Penaranda, the Spanish 
leader, relative to a peace ; returning whence, he found Conde 
had prepared to lead back the court party ; he was joined by 
his brother Conti. Anne of Austria herself concocted a scheme 
for taking him back at one of the doors of Mazarin's carriage, 
and exposing him to the ridicule of the people of Paris — hear- 
ing of which, Conti hurried away as fast as possible for that 
city. The Duke of Beaufort made overtures for reconciliation 
with the court, which were spurned. In fact the Fronde now 
felt that the king's return might bring about a revulsion of sen- 
timent with the fickle mass. On the 18th August, the royal 
family returned, Mazarin and Conde appearing at the same 
window of one of the royal carriages. Here French character 
was strikingly illustrated : maugre all that they had said and 
done, the people flocked in crowds to see the spectacle — thunders 
of applause and roars of blessings rent the air — neither threats 
nor reproaches were heard — many a coarse joke was cracked, 
and Anne was complimented on her taste — while all admired 
the cardinal's beauty, and many called out, " Look, look, how 
handsome he is;" — others exclaimed they loved him, and others 
eagerly tried to shake hands with him \ So immense was the 
concourse of people that the troops were a mere speck, and 
were so wedged in masses between the portions of the cavalcade 
that the attendants could have been of no use had there been 
any attempt to assassinate either of the royal party. Although 
Mazarin had been by anonymous letters, and friends, warned 
that his life was in danger, he had coolness enough to make a 



20 DE RETZ INTRIGUES. 

merit of necessity, and exhibit the utmost blandness and self- 
possession. 

This popularity alarmed De Retz, who, on going up with an 
address the next day, is said to have shown the white feather — 
his voice faltered he shook, and now, in his turn, trembled 
before those whom he had so often insulted. The queen's 
shrewdness detected the symptoms, and, turning to one of her 
attendants, with a refinement of irony, she exclaimed, " How 
beautiful a thing is innocence !" The tide was turned, — parlia- 
ment, clergy, corporations, swam with the stream, and joined 
to address and congratulate the cautious and penetrating cardi- 
nal. In fact, the people had become galled by the chains of 
their liberators, and the wretched personal characters of De 
Retz and his friends helped forward the rapid re-action — for they 
were as bold and as bad as can be conceived : in truth, the 
court party vied with them so far in gross immorality as to 
puzzle the people which to prefer. De Retz and his friends had 
this little advantage, that they troubled not themselves to main- 
tain even a trifling exterior decency, and thus spared the addition 
of hypocrisy to their other frightful vices. The grossness of 
their debaucheries forbids sullying these pages with a recital — 
their antagonists took care, however, that nothing should be 
lost, and, amidst other accounts, record that the Princess de 
Guimene, one of the former mistresses of De Retz, was by him 
seized by the throat because she had run away in a fright at the 
beginning of the siege, upon which the lady threw a candlestick 
at the head of the future cardinal, having, as she twitted him, 
discovered him with Mademoiselle de Chevreuse. Frantic licen- 
tiousness, beastly orgies, cruelty and crime, ran down the very 
streets. On one occasion the Frondeurs met a party of the king's 
pages, whom they wantonly attacked, and, inflicting several 
severe wounds, they bid the pages carry that to their master. 
Meeting a funeral in the streets, preceded, as is common in 
popish countries, by a crucifix, they drew their swords, Don 
Quixote like, and cried out, " The enemy ! the enemy !" driv- 
ing mourners, undertakers and priests down the street. Blas- 
phemy became modelled by some of the leaders into a kind of 
systematic amusement : in short, they were too bad for the 
Parisians, and that must be bad indeed ! I have been informed, 
and am sure it is true, that when our late poet laureat first 
went over to Paris — perhaps in somewhat of a spirit of irreve- 
rence, he told a friend, after seeing but little of the profligacy 
of that guilty city, " that he should think God had dealt very 
hardly with Sodom and Gomorrah, if Paris were spared much 
longer !" 

The reflux of the waves brought on almost an inundation of 
popularity — on going to say Te Deam at Notre Dame, the im- 



AGAINST MAZARIN. 21 

mense crowds clamoured for the king, who was lifted up above 
their heads, that all might behold the youth whom they had 
but so lately, and so unjustly, driven forth from amongst them. 
Mazarin knew the people, and showed himself frequently, with 
confiding freedom from retainers, among the crowds; he set 
the young king to proceed, in a splendid cavalcade, on the day 
of his attaining his eleventh year, to the church of St. Louis. 
In short, matters were going on so well for the cardinal that 
the parliament were sullen in losing their influence, and with 
adroit avidity seized on the disturbances in Provence and Gui- 
enne as a pretext for new attempts to embarrass the court, 
although the great leader, Conde, was in strict alliance with 
the queen. Still, discontent was whispered — Mazarin had pro- 
mised greatly more than he could perform, and, to use a com- 
mercial figure, as his bills were fast coming due, and rarely taken 
up, the holders began to look as honest Cavendish says of a 
similar disagreeable, so " as it would make you for to smile ! " 
Conde, having been enraged by some disappointment, answered 
Mazarin's oily evasions and perpetual procrastinations with 
threats and curses, was joined again by a powerful faction, and 
now daringly threw himself back into the arms of his old concu- 
bine, the Fronde. Mazarin was alarmed, and withdrew (through 
the aid of the Duke of Orleans) his opposition to the Duke of 
Longueville's receiving the Pont-de-FArche, which had been 
the immediate bone of contention. It was a patched-up recon- 
ciliation — mutual distrust remained, and the hatred of Anne of 
Austria to the Fronde was ever breaking out. At a grand ball, 
at which the king and members of the royal family were present, 
5th Sept. 1649, every body of consideration was invited, except 
the Duchess de Longueville — she had remained at Chantilly 
under a pretext of drinking the waters for her health. On being 
pressed to invite her, Anne replied that she declined interfering 
with her health ! This so enraged her brother, the Prince de 
Conde, that, to appease him, the queen was forced to swallow 
the bitter pill of being compelled to invite her. Anne ordered 
the ball to take place by daylight — which the ladies thought too 
searching for their beauty : this so irritated many that they be- 
came her hopeless enemies thenceforward ! 

The ever restless Conde seemed to seek fresh excuses for 
quarrels with the cardinal : he had affected content with the 
late arrangements, and therefore agreed to withdraw his oppo- 
sition to the marriage of Madlle. Mancini with the Duke de 
Mercoeur. Before he had grossly insulted the cardinal, by ob- 
serving that his nieces were not good enough for the gentlemen 
of his household ; and once he said that, if he pleased, he would 
make Champfleuri (captain of the guard to his Excellency) 
bring his master by the beard to the hotel de Conde. He now 



22 INSOLENCE OF CONDE. 

afresh started his claims to the office of high-admiral ; and, in 
short, seems almost insanely to have overrated his influence — 
even at one time contemplating raising armies on his own 
account, and possessing himself of whole French provinces. As 
the price of a new submission, he insisted on the principality 
of Montbeliard being purchased for him; Mazarin, to detach his 
dangerous foe from worse schemes, agreed to find the money, 
and sent the financier Hervart to effect the purchase— but pri- 
vately told him how to manage to cause the total miscarriage 
of the scheme : his craftiness accidentally transpired, and threw 
the impetuous Conde into wild paroxysms of rage. 

Mazarin thus soon found himself environed with fresh 
difficulties ; and, as Dr. Johnson said that the security of the 
church of England consisted in the multiplicity of sects, the 
safety of the minister was to be found in the dissensions be- 
tween the various parties who opposed him, whom to balance 
was worthy of the skill of this great tactitian. But Conde was 
the most impracticable of his opponents, and his insults and 
powers of ridicule even caused the cold and cautious cardinal to 
lose his temper. Conde once, on hearing Mazarin dwell rather 
more minutely on military operations than comported either 
with his courage or his calling, in a convulsion of laughter, left 
him, exclaiming, " Adieu, Mars!" Of course the minister did not 
forget these irritations, although the influence of the capricious 
prince was too great just at once for him to chastise his over- 
bearing. The prince, in his various coquetings with the Fronde, 
had discovered ulterior intentions on the part of De Retz; this 
kept Conde aloof from extreme measures. Guy de Joly and 
De Retz concocted a scheme of finance, which tended to unite 
the parliament and the Fronde in worrying the able minister — 
but, as the former body was not then sitting, it was necessary 
to adopt means to cause them to assemble : and it was resolved 
on to get up a pretended attempt at assassination of Joly him- 
self, who, being a member, it was thought the affair might tend 
to that end. One Estainville, a gentleman of known skill in 
pistol-shooting, joined the scheme: the outer dress of Joly was 
placed upon a log of wood; Estainville hit it in the arm, and 
exactly under the spot Joly wounded his own flesh with a flint- 
stone. Next day as Joly, in his carriage, was slowly coming 
down the rue des Bernadins, Estainville, watching, stood with a 
pistol in his hand, and a saddled horse near: as arranged pre- 
viously, Joly slipped down to the bottom of his carriage — 
Estainville took a sure aim, and pierced the panel where Joly 
had just been sitting. Joly's lacqueys having been purposely 
sent away, the people ran up at the report of the pistol — Estain- 
ville mounted and galloped off— but his horse slipped on the 
stones, and he was nearly taken. He got to the hotel de Noir- 



GUENAUT AND HIS HORSE. 23 

montier, where, during the day, he concealed himsalf; and, 
having borrowed the horse of the Marquis de Fosseuse, on its 
return at night, the Marquis caused it to be poisoned, lest it 
should be recognized. 

But this bright scheme had nearly been exposed, and all 
spoiled, by an accident: instead of wadding, D'Estainville had 
used in his pistol the cover of a letter which had been addressed 
to him — but fortunately the name was obliterated— the remain- 
der of the paper, and the balls, were taken, still warm, by the 
secretary of the avocat-general, one Brignon. Joly was con- 
veyed to an ignorant neighbouring surgeon — his wounded arm 
doctored — and he was carried home, and put to bed. The news 
spread rapidly through the streets : all were at first alarmed — it 
was said Mazarin was assassinating his opponents ; and, making 
capital of this farce, the Fronde proceeded to demand the inter- 
ference of parliament — the chamber of enquiry sat — the Fronde 
were having it all their own way, when, by an untimely expo- 
sure, the tragedy was turned into a ridiculous result. It appears 
by the Memoirs of Madame de Motteville, that neither the 
court nor the people were the dupes of the disgraceful plans so 
common ; and M. de Talon corroborates this. It seems that, on 
the very day of this occurrence, strong suspicions were enter- 
tained at the Palais Royal ; and the queen, after a formal and 
formidable report of the state of Joly's wound, by the surgeons 
and doctors deputed by the parliament to examine him pri- 
vately sent Guenaut, her own physician. He seems to have 
been a pompous fool, that never appeared in the streets but on 
a long-tailed horse, and acquired thereby the soubriquet of 
" Guenaut and his horse:" at night he repaired to her majesty 
to describe how matters stood — when he assured her there 
could not be a doubt of the reality of the affair, as he had found 
Joly in a high fever, nor could the greatest actor in the world 
carry dissimulation so far I Marquis de la Boulaie, the general 
of the parliament during the siege, either wanting to make a 
popular revolt, whereby the court could gain credit in using 
violent efforts to restore order ; or, himself desirous of a greater 
degree of tumult ; while the parliament was proceeding on this 
matter, rushed into the great hall, and tried to incite the people 
and the courts to fly to arms— as this was but one of the big 
drops of the coming storm of massacre with which they were all 
threatened — and that it was settled to immolate the Duke of 
Beaufort and De Retz ! The latter perceived, with intuitive 
sharpness, that such rashness might mar all, and tried to allay 
the spirit of frenzy the Fronde had kindled: it seems, the more 
reflecting members, and the president, began to entertain sus- 
picions which startled the Frondeurs, and the ungovernable 
Boulaie gathered a lot of horsemen, and in the street created a 



24 FRENCH SPRIGHTLINESS. 

degree of confusion that, like a snow-ball, encreasing as it 
rolled along, by the addition of butchers, carters, and other low 
rabble, an entente was raised on the Pont Neuf. This just was 
what Mazarin wanted : he adroitly got hold of the susceptible 
Conde, and persuaded him there was a design against his life — 
the queen entreated him not to jeopardy himself by venturing 
out of the palace — Mazarin was quite affected — and Conde re- 
luctantly remained, ordering his coach to be sent across the 
Pont Neuf; several other carriages accompanied it; and, while 
passing through the mob, in the melee, one of Conde's lacqueys 
was shot dead. La Boulaie was present, and, it appeared, actu- 
ally attacked the carriage of Conde. He seems to have alter- 
nately been the tool of both De Retz and Mazarin : after this 
violence he took refuge in the hotel of the Duke of Beaufort, 
This master-stroke of Mazarin answered his purpose well: — 
Conde, of course, was now estranged from the Frondeurs, and 
the inferior actors were alarmed for the safety of De Retz and 
Beaufort. 

The Duke of Beaufort was the received lover of the Duchess 
de Montbazon, who, now terrified at his position, proposed to 
De Retz to fly with the Duke, and Madlle. de Chevreuse, the 
acknowledged mistress of De Retz, to Peronne. Mazarin was 
at the bottom of this proposal, as he naturally wished to expose 
his enemies in the most shameful and ridiculous positions; but, 
superior in effrontery and sin, De Retz equalled his wily oppo- 
nent in cunning, and saw that the wiser course would be boldly 
to wait upon Conde with the appearance of freedom from sus- 
picion, by being attended only by one servant, and an expression 
of indignation at the unjust charges which had been brought 
against him. Conde received him ill — professed his life to 
be in danger from the Frondeurs, and, secretly encouraged by 
Mazarin, never went out without 500 or 1,000 gentlemen. It is 
conjectured by some writers that the leaders of the Fronde suf- 
fered the truth to transpire relative to the attack on Joly, with 
a view to show up the counterplot of the threats, &c, against 
the Prince of Conde. With the sprightliness of our Gallic neigh- 
bours, they named the affair of Joly " La Joliade," and the 
Conde counterplot " La Joliade renforcee." The first excessive 
burst of public laughter gave way to indignation when the cha- 
racter of the witnesses came to be known — some were forgers, 
some were pickpockets, some swindlers, some had been con- 
demned to be hanged, some had been found guilty of robbery, 
many were government spies. This worthy band stands unri- 
valled, except by our own protegees from. Italy to swear away the 
reputation, and perhaps life, of Queen Caroline for unfaithful- 
ness to the scrupulous Geo. IV. — headed by him of undying 
celebrity, the " Non mi ricordo" witness. It turned out that 



MADEMOISELLE DE SOYON. 25 

these precious vagabonds were secured by Mazarin to appear 
against the leaders of the Fronde. De Retz was not slow to 
avail himself of the advantage this lucky discovery created in 
his affairs. Conde still kept aloof from the Fronde, and the wily 
De Retz stirred up numbers of discontented nobles and gen- 
try, and, by great efforts, surrounded himself with a numerous 
and brilliant escort. Scenes of shameful violence were daily 
taking place even in the courts of law and parliament. Maza- 
rin had hoped by working on the various passions of Conde 'to 
drive him more and more from the popular leaders, and further 
into the meshes of the court : notwithstanding, he still laughed 
at Mazarin, little perceiving that he himself was a puppet in 
the cardinal's hands. His egregious consequence disgusted 
men' of all parties, and, by common consent, Conde was to be 
put down. 

The Duchess de Chevreuse was intimate with Anne of Aus- 
tria; she hinted to her majesty that the Fronde would be at her 
feet, would the regent but vigorously grapple with the pride and 
power of Conde, whom in truth the queen loved not. This very 
woman was mother of the open and notorious mistress of De 
Retz, who had, because of her charms, and immense estate, 
been considered a suitable match for the young Duke of Riche- 
lieu, — to show the morality of the age and country, it should 
be told that this project of marriage was suggested by the young 
duke's maiden aunt ! Conde determined to mar this scheme : 
and it was settled to marry the young duke to a Madame de 
Ponts, an engaging widow, but not beautiful — but so attractive 
was she that she was called the " ugly Helen." The young 
duke was fascinated by the widow — and such was the prevalent 
immorality that his aunt thought marriage was out of the ques- 
tion, and, for the rest, cared not. Under a conspiracy conducted 
by Conde, a clandestine marriage was effected — the aunt threat- 
ened to have the marriage dissolved, and Conde haughtily told 
her no marriage celebrated in his presence should ever be annul- 
led — her resentment knew no bounds : — we shall see how she 
avenged herself. 

Mademoiselle de Soyon, a maid of honour to the Duchess 
of Orleans, had yielded to the illicit passion of the Duke ; in a 
fit of repentance she ran away, and was received in a Carmelite 
convent: his confessor was delighted at losing a counter-in- 
fluence — and the duke was distracted. What a state of society ! 
It is recorded that he had recourse to royal, parliamentary, per- 
sonal, and friendly, authority to get this poor girl out of the pro- 
tection of the church, and to bring her back to the same palace 
which contained his wife. The Duchess of Aiguillon was em- 
ployed in executing this religious business, aided by a Carmelite 
monk, father Leon (let us say of his name as a prop of the church 



26 PLOT AGAINST CONDE, 

est o perpetual), who overcame the lady's scruples with the hope 
of her soon becoming lady of the bedchamber to the Duchess 
of Orleans ! Well, the gratitude of Orleans to the Duchess of 
Aiguillon was very great, — we shall soon trace its working 
against the ever imprudent and haughty Conde. At p. 17, 
Jerze was mentioned : he had been worked up by the prince to 
be vain enough to fancy the queen was in love with him. She 
mildly reproved his vanity ; but it required a sharper and more 
public reprimand to put down the insolent presumption of this 
bold aspirer. He carried his wrongs to Conde, who, to test his 
power, demanded that Anne should, on the very day when she 
had for ever forbidden him her presence, again receive him. 
Mazarin remonstrated, — Conde replied, whether or not it was 
right or wrong was not the question ; it should be done, for he 
willed it. In short, such was the state of matters that the queen 
submitted ! But in bitterness of spirit she sent for Madame de 
Chevreuse (the mother of De Retz's mistress), and commenced 
a treaty. The queen regent herself, De Retz, and Mazarin, at 
once held a private interview. De Retz was faithfully promised 
the next cardinal's hat for his help ; it was now arranged to 
arrest Conde, Conti, and De Longueville. 

The various prices to the different Frondeurs were now set- 
tled. The difficulty was to gain the consent of the Duke of 
Orleans. This was managed through his mistress Mdlle. de 
Soyon, whose aid was secured by the Duchess of Aiguillon ; and 
then to prevent the duke telling his confessor, La Riviere, both 
these ladies wrought on the lieutenant-general to believe that 
the priest had done all in his power to prevent the return of his 
mistress from the convent. Their plans laid, these antagonist 
parties, who, a short time before, would have pursued each 
other unto the death, were sworn friends, agreed in the same 
enterprise. A cause just now came before the council which 
excited great interest, and Mazarin intrigued to lead the three 
brothers to attend. Early that morning this deeply laid scheme 
was nearly discovered to Conde: he called on Mazarin, and, 
while engaged in conversation, walked near to the secretary, 
who was at that moment engaged in preparing the official order 
for his arrest ; the secretary, aiming at an unembarrassed man- 
ner, contrived to cover over the papers. At this interview the 
mediant cardinal could not resist his love of calm pleasantry : 
the confessor of the duke of Orleans hated Mazarin — no love 
was lost between them. La Riviere's ambition was to don the 
purple ; Mazarin had taken effectual means to prevent his re- 
ceiving a cardinal's hat, but now persuaded the priest that it 
was on the road ! and had the laugh against him by inducing 
him to try different shades of scarlet, to judge which best suited 
his complexion ! Being in the humour, he next told Conde that a 



CONTI, AND LONGUEVILLE. 27 

witness who was about to appear against some Frondeurs, in a 
trial then going on, was likely to be rescued, and he persuaded 
him to sign an order for the soldiers to convey to Vincennes 
what prisoners soever should be committed to them. 

The queen shammed illness, kept her bed, ordering that she 
should be fetched when the council were assembled ; but the 
mother of Conde called to see her, and exhibited such kind in- 
terest in her health that she was so far touched as to manifest 
a degree of emotion which created a suspicion in the mind of 
the dowager that some design was afloat against her family. 
This feeling she told her son Conde — he thought proper to pay 
no attention to it. 

Conde, Conti, and Longueville, proceeded to the council- 
chamber as usual. Orleans was too timid to be present, but 
the queen directed, when all was ready, that she should be 
called. She gave orders instantly to Guitaut, captain of the 
guard, and his nephew Comminges, to arrest the Prince de 
Conde, with Conti his brother, and De Longueville, his brother- 
in-law; when, taking the young king in her hand, she retired — 
to pray ! Conde imagined Guitaut had been going to ask some 
favour when he made up to him, and received him with a degree 
of gracious condescension ; but, in a voice so low as to be heard 
by no one else, the captain informed him of his orders to arrest 
him, Conti, and De Longueville. " Me ! Me !" cried Conde, 
and desired to see queen, but of course he was not permitted to 
leave ; a message was carried, but Anne refused to see him. 
By a file of musketeers he was led along, and with all imaginable 
coolness, he said he hoped they would take him to some warm 
place. Seeing among the soldiers some old comrades, he gen- 
teelly suggested disobedience of orders to them by remarking, 
" My friends, this is not the battle of Lens." For a moment he 
was shaken, by witnessing in an obscure room the preparations 
which had been made for his arrest;-— his historical reminis- 
cences pointed to the fate of the Duke of Guise, and he ob- 
served to Guitaut, " This looks very much like the States of 
Blois. ,, 

Guitaut's honest nature revolted at the idea; he told the 
duke to fear not, for he at least was no agent for such deeds. 
His two brothers followed at some distance, Conti manifesting 
quiet indifference, and Longueville as much sunk as would be 
naturally expected from his character. They entered the coach 
which had been prepared to take them to Vincennes ; after pro- 
ceeding a short distance, the vehicle broke down, when Conde 
thought it was a plan for his escape : finding it otherwise, he 
peaceably went along. As there had been no beds provided, 
they sat up all night playing cards, and discussing the doctrine 
of astrology with great spirit. But although certain of his par- 



28 

tisans vainly attempted to get up an emeute, the Prince de 
Conde's haughtiness had left him enemies every where, and the 
population of Paris manifested the wildest joy at his arrest. 
Madame de Longueville was sent for by the queen ; but, fear- 
ing to go, she escaped to Normandy. Conde's mother was or- 
dered to one of her estates, and all his adherents were struck 
by the unexpected manifestation of vigour which the queen and 
Mazarin felt it most painful to exhibit, and both said, as did 
Conde's own friend Chavigny, that it was kindness to the prince 
to shut him up, and save him from himself. When the Duke of 
Orleans heard of their arrest, he remarked, " That's a fine haul 
of the net [coup de filef\ — the cardinal has caught a lion, an 
ape, and a fox ! " By the lion he meant Conde ; by the ape he 
meant Conti, ugly, hump-backed, and diminutive ; the fox was 
Longueville, cunning, supple, and adroit. 

The immediate consequences of this precaution were rather 
alarming; revolts in Normandy ensued — which were soon put 
down. The Duchess de Longueville fermented these disturb- 
ances : Pont-de-1'Arche, and the castle of Dieppe were in her 
hands, the former commanded the course of the Seine, and it 
was held by one of the duke's officers. De Bouillon, alarmed, 
fled to Turenne, who, since the peace, had much attached him- 
self to the Prince de Conde, and who now threw himself into 
Stenay, which Mazarin had given up to the prince : in Burgun- 
dy some of Conde's officers determined to hold out the towns 
they commanded on behalf of Conde. Mazarin was prepared 
for all this ; and caused the king to publish a declaration, which 
was verified by the parliament, commanding all fugitives to re- 
turn within fifteen days, under the penalty of high treason. The 
two princesses of Conde were ordered to Chantilly; the younger 
obeyed at once, but the dowager-duchess earnestly endeavoured 
to effect the liberty of her son. Mazarin and the court pro- 
ceeded to Normandy — where all the refractory at once laid 
down their % arms, and the Duchess de Longueville fled to Hol- 
l.ind. From Normandy the royalists went to Burgundy; a 
slight resistance occurred at Bellegarde ; but the whole of the 
province was soon reduced, and formally the Prince de Conde 
was removed from the government, the appointment being 
transferred to the Duke de Vendome. On his return from 
these triumphs, Mazarin at Paris is said rather to have fallen 
into too presumptuous a spirit — which was the more censurable 
because, if he had put down Normandy and Burgundy, Stenay 
still recognised the Prince of Conde ; Bouillon was getting on 
with Turenne; at Blaye, St. Simon had openly showed himself 
as the follower of the princes ; Marsillac was in arms in Angou- 
mois and Poitou ; lower down, Bordeaux threatened rebellion. 
The court however upon the whole gained, and as by the death 



THE WIFE OF CONDE. 29 

of his father, Marsillac had become Duke de Rochefoueault, he 
thought to raise a fresh insurrection — but Mazarin was before- 
hand with him in pouring in that sort of troops which he face- 
tiously called " yellow hussars ! " and Saumur, which would 
have formed the strength of the disaffected there, Mazarin 
secured by treaty. Mortified, but not crushed, De Bouillon 
and De Rochefoueault, with a number of other discontented 
gentlemen, concocted a scheme of operations which troubled 
France in an internal warfare for years. 

From Chantilly, they solicited the young princess to take 
possession of Bordeaux, as the capital for the insurgents, but 
Gourville had previously begged her to lead the discontented of 
Guienne. However, the dowager had been influenced by coun- 
seller Lenet to urge her daughter-in-law, with her infant son, to 
proceed to Burgundy — still it was undecided to which point she 
should devote her energies. In such times, with such profligates, 
marriage must never be considered as essentially connected with 
love — she had been forced uponConde, though neither handsome 
nor particularly engaging. Claire Clemence de Maille Breze 
now showed a character for foresight and vigour which was quite 
unexpected. Under the mask of gaiety she had kept up a little 
court at Conde's palace. Mazarin had watched their movements, 
and was to a certain extent imposed upon, and while the princess- 
dowager proceeded to court under the pretence of presenting 
a petition relative to her children, her daughter effected her 
escape. Mazarin had tardy information of some of their plans 
— he despatched messengers to order Clemence to consider her- 
self as a prisoner. The young princess rose, and an English girl, 
one of her maids of honour, took her place in bed, counterfeit- 
ing her mistress. The gardener's son represented the youthful 
Duke d'Enghien — wearing his clothes ; the dowager was in bed, 
feigning sickness, and the wife of Conde was concealed by the 
curtains when the royal messenger entered the apartment and 
read his commission. From the old lady's room the messen- 
ger proceeded to the bed of the pretended princess ; where, with 
the curtains nearly drawn, the English girl performed her part 
so well that the agent from the court was misled by the pre- 
tended illness of the two princesses ; thinking he had both his 
prisoners in custody several days after the young princess and 
her son had safely escaped. In the forest of Chantilly, the day 
after the messenger arrived, the duke's horses were carelessly 
taken, with the appearance of its being merely for exercise ; a 
carriage had been prepared previously, and it was drawn to this 
selected spot ; and harness for four horses was smuggled thither. 
At 11 o'clock at night, Clemence took leave of her husband's 
mother, and, with three ladies and the family physician, a 
gentleman of undoubted bravery, walked to the appointed rcn- 

c 3 



30 ESCAPE OF CLEMENCE. 

dezvous in the forest. Attendants followed, carrying the young 
Duke d'Enghien, others hovered near to assist in case of alarm, 
and a third party, with Lenet, took another route, to avoid 
notice. By 4 o'clock in the morning they were all safely on 
the road to Montrond. One of the ladies took the character of 
the mother of the family in the coach ; the other branch of the 
party, accompanied by Lenet, managed to travel without any 
apparent connexion with the princess's party, and at the different 
inns on the road passed for entire strangers, until they arrived in 
Burgundy, where their difficulties greatly diminished, and they 
were cordially received from house to house as the adherents of 
Conde, till they safely reached Montrond on the night of the 
1 4 th April. 

A bruit reached Paris that the princess had escaped, and 
Mazarin sent off to the messenger in possession at Chantilly; 
he assured Mazarin in reply that they were safe, for he saw 
them every day. After plans had been arranged with many no- 
bles, Clemence, escorted by several hundred men, proceeded to 
Bordeaux- To their surprise, the citizens remonstrated against 
the entrance of so numerous an escort; the princess and her son 
were freely received, but wished to avoid coming into collison 
with the court. After having for some time kept many of the 
noblemen and their retainers out, the authorities at length gra- 
dually relaxed ; and, won by promises and fair speeches, the 
citizens suffered the troops to be introduced, when, as a natural 
consequence, their credulity was rewarded by soon finding them- 
selves under the power of those whom it would have been their 
wisdom to keep out. The local parliament had all along waver- 
ed between Conde and Mazarin; the shrewd adherents of Conde 
naturally used all their art to urge them into a position in their 
favour, from which it would be impossible to retreat. These in- 
trigues led to serious riots; some of the members, endeavouring 
to fly from the hall, were met by the roused populace, and by inti- 
midation and blows were driven back. The citizens called on the 
burghers, who flew to arms : the contending parties, in a state of 
exasperation, came into collision before the Palais de Justice; a 
sanguinary conflict was just commencing, when the young prin- 
cess, with some of her ladies, appeared in a commanding part of 
the building, and, with a clear and loud voice, exclaimed, " Let 
those that love me follow me." On this the combatants, mixing 
in one stream, turned towards her dwelling, shouting, " Long 
live the princess !" Her character was exhibited, perhaps ele- 
vated, by difficulties — so that she at last succeeded in augment- 
ing the strength of her husband's resources where his interests 
so clearly indicated that strength should manifestly exist. 

The dowager-princess had by this time proceeded to Paris, 
where she ably secured the sympathy of the parliament by a 



TURENNE STRENGTHENS HIMSELF. 31 

personal appeal. At the feet of Orleans, in distress before 
Beaufort and De Retz, the latter confessed the existence of a 
kind of feeling to which before he had been a stranger, and 
thought he should have died of shame at her humiliating re- 
quests: — still, the supposed interests of these leaders swayed 
them to procure her abrupt ejection from Paris, which she re- 
luctantly obeyed; on the road the princess was now really taken 
ill, and, from sorrow, shortly after died. De Retz soon saw 
that the wily cardinal meant to evade the fulfilment of his en- 
gagements — which indeed was the fate of his promises almost 
invariably; and although an apparent cordiality subsisted be- 
tween Mazarin and the leading Frondeurs, they clearly perceived 
his gifts would have violently to be wrung from him. Fresh 
irritation was arising in the breast of De Retz, not only from 
the habitual deduction of heavy discounts, on the part of the 
able minister, from his reiterated assurances; but additionally 
from his everlasting penchant, by one cunning scheme or 
another, to plunder the national creditor. 

.Meanwhile the cardinal had thought it necessary, through 
the Count d'Estrades, to conclude a treaty with the. young 
Prince of Orange, part of which was to be a great effort to 
establish Charles II. on the throne of England. If he had thus 
secured a friend in that quarter, danger soon arose from the 
north : Marshal Turenne, having declined all Mazarin's repeat- 
ed overtures, had strengthened himself in Stenay, which, with 
Jamets, and other places in Champagne, still held out for 
Conde. Having turned all the plate, jewels, &c, into money, 
he was aided by the Duchess of Longueville, under whose joint 
efforts to shake the faithfulness of the forces which had served 
under him in Germany, only two regiments and a part of ano- 
ther joined the party of Conde. The great general was in an 
alarming position, as he was surrounded by the royal troops. 
Mazarin, finding he had made overtures to Spain, saw the ne- 
cessity of winning Turenne; but his efforts were then fruitless; 
and the able commander, at the head of 18,000 French and 
Spaniards, advanced, and took Le Catelet, Guise, and other 
towns. He was, however, thwarted by Du Plessis Praslin, com- 
manding a small French army, which would not have prevented 
his effecting a grand scheme of marching against Paris itself; 
but he found the Spaniards impracticable : he then thought of 
advancing with 3,000 horse to Vincennes, and delivering the 
princes by a coup de main. But he was prevented from engaging 
in this enterprise by hearing that the well-fortified town of 
Rhetel, in which he had thrown considerable strength, was sud- 
denly attacked by Du Praslin : before he could arrive to defend 
it, Mazarin had gone thither, and successfully had suggested to 
Du Plessis a mode of attack on one of the suburbs, which 



32 THE PRINCES IN PRISON. 

caused the town at once to surrender. The victor, with his 
army, was all night in sight of Turenne and his army. The latter 
was compelled to retreat, followed for two days by Du Plessis, 
till, at Genneville, the great general, seeing it unavoidable, 
although with vastly inferior strength to that of the royalists, 
determined on action. Himself foremost in the onslaught, 
heading some Lorraine cavalry, even under the greatest disad- 
vantages of position, he bore down the right of the royal army, 
and penetrated to the cannon, that were behind the first line. 
Meanwhile Turenne's right was defeated by Hocquincourt, who 
led the left of the royalists — Turenne fought with desperation. 
Du Plessis brought up the second line, nearly surrounding the 
troops of Turenne, which, becoming panic-struck, began to fly 
in all directions. He struggled as long as possible, and was 
surrounded himself by the Germans in the royal service, who 
knew him and the vast importance of taking him prisoner; but 
he and one companion cut their way through. Then they had 
to pass through the French ; this with incredible difficulty 
they effected, after a rout so very dreadful that no more than 
150 of the fugitives rallied to reach Bar-le-duc with Turenne. 
He never more could assemble above half of his army, and 
therewith he shortly went to Montmedi. The Spaniards had 
behaved well to him, and yet offered him help — in men and 
money— which latter indeed they sent to him : not to be out- 
done in generosity, he returned the money to the archduke, in- 
forming him that a probability had arisen of his differences 
being adjusted with the court, assuring him he would not lay 
down his arms without fair terms of peace for Spain. 

The three princes passed their time during their confinement 
according to their respective characters. In consequence of the 
insolent self-importance of that very weak man, in September 
1G43, the Duke of Beaufort had been arrested and confined here; 
but, after an abode of four years and a half, in May 1648, he 
contrived to dr©p from the walls of Vincennes. Conti had asked 
for a book entitled the " Imitation of Jesus Christ:" Conde, 
with bold irreverence, called out for " an imitation of the Duke 
of Beaufort ;" — but no means existed of his availing himself of 
that example. He heard with gratification of the heroic con- 
duct of his wife, and, turning from some flowers he was cultiva- 
ting, expressed surprise that the tables should be so turned that 
she should be engaged in warfare, while he was watering car- 
nations ! Many schemes were tried by his friends to effect his 
liberation — actual money was given — many great promises were 
lavished — and indescribable benefits were to result from the 
opening of his prison doors ; almost all the soldiers were gained 
over, and the period of the enlargement of the princes was fixed 
for the hour of vespers on one Sunday evening — while De Bar, 



mazarin's intrigues. 33 

the governor, and all the officers were at church — it being settled 
to let down some bars so as to shut them all in church while the 
freedom of the lion, the ape, and the fox, was effected. The 
scheme was well laid, and doubtless would have succeeded but 
for a woman's tongue. Conde's mother told four of her friends — 
that they might be prepared with after aid ; one, touched with 
compunction or dread — under a pretence of confessing to a rob- 
bery, handed a private paper to the grand penitentiary — which 
exposed the plan. He told De Retz, who, with Beaufort, took 
measures to collect troops immediately and to repair to Vincen- 
nes — the conspirators were alarmed, and Gourville fled into Poi- 
tou: however, they were not discovered, and, the guard being 
changed, the affair terminated. Mazarin suddenly removed 
them to Marcoussi, where a similar plan to release them, sug- 
gested by the Duke of Nemours, was frustrated by the sly 
measure of the wily minister's again unexpectedly sending them 
off to Havre. Enterprises were formed to release the princes 
thence, but as force must have been had recourse to, and in the 
melee their own lives might have been forfeited, these attempts 
were abandoned. Among the many ingenious contrivances to 
which their imprisonment gave rise, one should not pass unre- 
corded, as it escaped the vigilance of De Bar. The illustrious 
prisoners were by him prevented [one would almost be led to 
think that the word debar arose from this !] from other amuse- 
ments than reading, gaming, and the cultivation of flowers— a 
truly French association; but there was no objection made to 
the reception of money by the princes, more especially as no 
small part of it found its way to the hands of the governor and 
other officers — under various pretences. This was generally sent 
in crown pieces, and the French, even then celebrated for their 
skill in bijouterie, contrived to slip in small silver boxes made to 
look exactly like the coin, on opening which, on very thin paper, 
were found letters. These they answered, and contrived to throw 
the boxes back again from the windows of their rooms, beyond 
the moat, to persons there ready to receive them. With his 
usual love of intrigue, Mazarin held out hopes of their liberation 
on condition of Conti's marrying one of his nieces ; and under 
this pretence, and of settling all disputes with Spain, he caused 
Turenne to suspend his opposition to the court, while it suited 
the cardinal's purpose. Spain had helped the people of Bor- 
deaux, who were now in formidable strength : they made sure of 
aid from the Duke of St. Simon, who deceived the princess with 
his promises, and, finally turning round to the court party, dis- 
tressed the adherents of Conde from his strong post at Blaye. 

Mazarin and the court proceeded to Guienne, where the 
aspect of the rebellion alarmed them, and while the Marechal de 
Meilleraie marched towards Bordeaux, the king, the queen, the 



34 BORDEAUX MAKES PEACE. 

minister, and the whole court, followed as far as Bourg. The 
Duke of Epernon and the Chevalier de Valette mustered all 
their strength, and joined De Meilleraie in investing Bordeaux. 
The troops of Bouillon and Rochefoucault were at an advanced 
post, and were soon driven in to the gates of Bordeaux. The 
castle of Vaire, on the Dordogne, was taken, the governor having 
surrendered at discretion; and for his pains he was immediately 
hanged by the royalists ! And such are the horrors and injustice 
of war that the Baron Canoles, who had been taken long before 
by the insurgents, was immediately hanged by way of reprisals — 
by a cruel experiment, to see whether or not it would put an 
end to this kind of slaughter : it is said the effect was such. The 
siege now began : an attack was made upon a large dunghill, 
which Bouillon and Rochefoucault so successfully contested that 
it cost the royalists 800 men to take it ; and then the porte, of 
which it formed the outwork, offered a determined resistance. 
A certain description of Mazarin makes him to carry in one 
hand a sword, and in the other a roll of parchment : he now car- 
ried on the war vigorously, while he was privately negociating. 
Some of the members of the local parliament had stolen away to 
to the court — they were received by the queen and Mazarin, and 
by them urged to return and try to make all parties anxious for 
peace. In consequence, a deputation waited on the court at 
Bourg, a truce of six days was concluded; and that led to a 
treaty of peace— the princess and her son were bound to retire 
to Montrond, the Dukes of Bouillon and Rochefoucault were 
pledged never to bear arms against the king, &c. This being 
all happily ended, the rebel leaders waited on the queen-regent, 
by whom they were graciously received, and the cardinal gave 
them their dinner; taking the opportunity to lure them, with 
his usual wiles, to the court party. They listened enough to vex 
De Retz ; who had now in view a scheme to dissever the Fronde 
from the court, and to separate the interests of the Duke of Or- 
leans and the cardinal ; this was aided intentionally by their 
long private interviews with Mazarin that were observed by the 
daughter of Orleans, and by her communicated to her father. 

This immediate trouble over, the court returned in triumph 
to Paris : nor was it long before the hornets' nest of the Fronde 
was about Mazarin's ears. Indeed the cardinal always reminds 
me of the old caricature (called ■' Breathing a Vein"), the fat old 
sensualist with his lugubrious countenance undergoing the opera- 
tion of bleeding — expressive of a full determination to quit for 
ever the courses which have endangered his life. But after his 
recovery, we find him (in another caricature, entitled " Charm- 
ing well again") immersed in his former gulosity. So Mazarin, full 
of engaging penitence and promises during the continuance of dis- 
asters, was for making friends of all— but, freed from his dimcul- 



THE CARDINAL'S SHREWDNESS. 35 

ties, we see how soon he forgets his drafts approaching matu- 
rity, and how ready he is to renew them, instead of taking them 
up ! Mazarin played one card badly : — the Abbe de la Riviere 
quarrelled with the Duke of Orleans, and, finding his influence 
abated, after vain attempts to restore himself, was finally driven 
from court. Mazarin should now have placed one in his own 
interest to govern that unstable prince, and not quietly have 
suffered his able antagonist to have usurped that function. De 
Retz never was actuated by repentance in his change of conduct 
toward Mazarin, but only speculated on turning his altered posi- 
tion to account ; and to compensate for the loss — I will not say 
of character, for he had none to lose — but of political importance, 
in some degree, which was the necessary result of his unnatural 
combination with the minister. Herein De Retz displayed con- 
summate ability in now securing Gaston, Duke of Orleans, as his 
cat's-paw, whose influence, from the high official station of lieute- 
nant-general, under the direction of his own vast abilities, be- 
came an immense object. His motives do not appear clear — per- 
haps they were compounded of eclat, caprice and malice. He 
seems to have been like the stormy petrel, unhappy in a calm ; 
and, from wielding supreme power over the fickle people, per- 
haps he eventually thought to fill the post of minister ; at least 
it is certain he coveted a cardinal's hat. He therefore now set 
about removing the captive princes from the power of the court 
to the keeping of Gaston — in other words to have them in ward 
himself; thereby calculating on a considerable accession of 
power. Should his scheme be so far frustrated that the refusal 
would cause a rupture between the duke and the minister, thereby 
he would have recovered that portion of popular influence which 
he had lost. I have told how they were unexpectedly removed 
from Vincennes to Marcoussi — which was an able tl coup" of 
the subtle cardinal, as it at once frustrated the wiles of De Retz, 
and defeated the schemes of Turenne. No one could penetrate 
the minister's moves on the political chess-board — his motives 
were not discoverable till it was " check-mate !" But all his coad- 
jutors were not equally cunning : old Chateauneuf, the keeper of 
the seals, not unaccountably, somewhat elated at this double 
defeat of their enemies — openly said, " De Retz must not talk 
so loud any more." 

In the desperation of revenge, De Retz had so let his influ- 
ence work as to convince the Duke of Orleans that Mazarin 
was making terms with the insurgents — and the reports of the 
duke's daughter contributed not a little to give force to the in- 
sinuations — that the queen and the imprisoned princes were to 
be reconciled, and that the co-regent Orleans was to be offered 
up as the sacrifice to appease the indignation of the insurgent 
party ! Mazarin set the queen upon inviting her weak brother- 



36 CUNNING OF DE RETZ. 

in-law to a conference at Fontainbleau; and De Retz was obliged 
to let him depart, without the guidance of his own tutelary ge- 
nius — in great concern for the consequences ; not however be- 
fore he had dosed him, by the instigation of other clever 
leaders of the Fronde, with instructions as to the course he 
should pursue, which they had calculated so as most to em- 
barrass the court. But Mazarin was too deep for the shallow 
Gaston: a council was held on his arrival at Fontainbleau ; they 
secured all their objects with the weak duke, who was captivated 
with the apparent energy with which Mazarin introduced and 
ably supported De Retz's receiving the cardinal's hat, How- 
ever, Mazarin had previously arranged to secure a considerable 
majority against his own motion; having privately convinced the 
queen of the madness of entrusting farther power to so danger- 
ous a man ! On Gaston's return to Paris, he almost foamed with 
rage when he came to understand the shrewd turn the cardi- 
nal had played him. The boundless resources of De Retz at 
once suggested another evolution of the wheel ; he determined 
to undo the work which his own influence had so materially 
contributed to effect; and, by securing the co-operation of the 
parliament, with Orleans as a puppet in his hands, he began to 
compass the liberation of the princes ! But his caution looked 
forward to the operation of this upon himself and the Fronde : 
it became necessary to define the ultimatum in the shape of trea- 
ties, and, on the part of the Conde family, the clever and pene- 
trating Anne de Gonzaga negociated. It is said she almost 
equalled this astonishing knave in skill ; and the result of their 
deliberations was several treaties, whereby Conti was to marry 
Mademoiselle de Chevreuse (living in open infamy at the time 
with De Retz !) ; Conde was to abandon his pretensions to the 
office of high- admiral in favour of the Duke of Beaufort ; Conde's 
son, the Duke d'Enghien was to marry Mademoiselle d' Orleans ; 
the cardinal's hat was to be given to De Retz ; and a system of 
mutual assistance was agreed upon. This was artfully contrived 
in separate engagements — unknown except to the immediate 
parties — De Retz and Anne de Gonzaga alone being aware of 
the whole of the covenants. A great difficulty arose with Gas- 
ton, who, fussy and self-important, always liked the reputation 
of an intrigue, but had neither courage nor abilities for action ; 
De Retz therefore caused his own secretary to lie in wait for the 
duke as he was crossing a passage between two doors. Caumar- 
tin held a pen full of ink in his hand, begged the duke to lay the 
document on his back as a substitute for a desk ; and the weak 
prince, afraid of being seen (as the cunning De Retz had antici- 
pated), hastily affixed his signature, and retired. 

A forged petition from Cojide had been agreed upon to lay 
before the parliament, by the young princess Conde, on learning 



CURIOUS PHYSIOLOGICAL FACT. 37 

which, Mazarin in haste sent clown a message to that body for- 
bidding their deliberation upon it ; which was the very point De 
Retz had been driving at, as their passions were directly roused 
against this tyrannical invasion of their rights ; and the court and 
the parliament at once became thereby placed in a juxta position. 
This happened just as Mazarin had returned flushed with his 
success against Turenne ; the masterly mind of De Retz knew 
full well the value of re-action — he determined therefore to 
attack the cardinal in the zenith of his self-gratulation, and 
pleaded, with his usual power, that, as the enemies were all 
crushed, now was the time to rectify the numerous and shameful 
evils in the state ; and skilfully got a vote of the house remon- 
strating with the regent on the disgraceful disorders of the govern- 
ment. With consummate art, he scarcely touched on the main 
object of his wishes, and so coldly spoke of the imprisonment of 
the princes that he roused the more generous feelings of the par- 
liament, who secured the concurrence of the chief president in 
passing a strong remonstrance and address to the queen, to the 
purport of effecting a general reconciliation among the members 
of the royal family. De Retz had now committed the parlia- 
ment — his next object was to hurl Mazarin from his post. 

Some common street ruffians had attacked the carriage of 
the Duke of Beaufort, and one of his attendants was killed, his 
name was St. Eglan. He had been to seek the duke at Madame 
de Montbazon's, and was returning at 11 o'clock at night, when 
he was attacked by 10 or 12 wretches. Four of them were exe- 
cuted for the crime ; they confessed they were regular thieves 
and highwaymen, who had committed many other street robbe- 
ries, we are told by M. Talon. Joly mentions a curious fact re- 
lative to the body of one of the malefactors : on being dissected 
by the surgeons, all the parts were found transposed ; the heart 
and the spleen were on the right side, and the liver on the left. 
Although a very remarkable circumstance, it was not unprece- 
dented, for, much about that time, a similar conformation was 
discovered in the body of a canon of Nantes. Of course this 
murder was not a thing to be lost — all sorts of reports were 
spread, and Mazarin was pointed out as the assassin. De Retz 
affected to consider all the opposition leaders in danger — nor 
would they move about without the ostentation of guards, nor 
remain at home without sentinels. But it might as well have 
been said, as on a former occasion, when the President Charton, 
who also pretended his life was in danger, and applied for guards 
at his house, was told by Viole Donzerau, conseiller-clerc dc la 
grand- chamb re, — that he was of opinion that they should place 
guards for the President Charton — but that a carpenter should 
construct them ! Mazarin was attacked by outrageous abuse in 
the house, and night after night did the most wild proposals pro- 

D 



38 INDESCRIBABLE CONFUSION. 

ceed from some of the puppets of De Retz — who were themselves 
unconscious who pulled the strings ! The object of course was 
to inflame the populace, and so to mould them as that he should 
ride in the storm. 

The cardinal, too, committed himself by sending for Gaston, 
and in the presence of the queen exposing the character and de- 
signs of De Retz. But the weak duke, conceiving their judicious 
advice, an impugning of his own discernment, took up the 
cudgels in favour of his new friend, and Mazarin cursed England 
and the parliament which had just decapitated Charles I. The 
queen lost her temper, and joined in anathemas against the duke 
and De Retz ; so that Gaston was driven away, vowing he never 
more would encounter such a hurricane from the royal scold. 
The schemes of the crafty coadjutor were now fast ripening — 
Mazarin and the queen were frightened, and injudiciously sent 
down to the parliament a coarse, and even absurd, declaration 
against De Retz — which so called forth his powerful sarcasm 
that, in reply, he considered it as below contempt. He forged a 
Latin quotation so dexterously that the learned were for some 
days occupied in hunting after it, and ended by an exposition of 
the policy he proposed. Confusion indescribable ensued — the 
Duke of Orleans was besought to go to the palace — a celebrated 
man, advocate-general, made an almost superhuman address to 
conquer the intelligible reluctance of the duke, which had just 
effected its object — but De Retz arrived in the nick of time, and 
through his masterly influence, persuaded Gaston to send a mes- 
sage to the queen, purporting that he would pay his respects to 
her as soon as she had banished Mazarin ! It is said that it was 
only now that the queen and the cardinal began to believe the 
Fronde in earnest for the liberation of Conde and his brothers ; 
that Anne de Gonzaga, with the comprehensiveness of her power- 
ful mind, had warned Mazarin of the danger of delay — had 
shown him that if he let his enemies have the merit of the act, he 
was lost. Others also pressed these views upon him — his obsti- 
nacy resisted all their counsel, and, when too late to benefit by 
its soundness, the parliament passed a decree proposed by his 
able enemy, and sanctioned by the weak Gaston, which at length 
showed Mazarin how hollow was the ground beneath his feet. 

Mazarin was offered the services of many celebrated men, but 
they were known to be treacherous. Chateauneuf was on the qui 
vive for his post — bodies, parties, families, were torn with intes- 
tine commotions, and many advised the queen-regent to march 
the army into Paris, and reduce the refractory by force. It is said 
that the cardinal now bitterly repented his procrastinating incre- 
dulity, and, mortified beyond expression that he had not removed 
the king, he now thought seriously of making concessions which, 
had they been timely, might have saved years of civil war and 



BOLDNESS OF THE FRONDE. 39 

confusion and suffering. But the storm beat too fiercely against 
him, and he resolved to quit a city in which his very life was in 
danger. He therefore provided himself with the necessary offi- 
cial order to De Bar ; and, although he aimed at disguising his 
emotion throughout the day, his irritation at last broke out to 
the Count de Brienne, to whom he told his intention to quit 
Paris, and himself liberate the prisoners. He lost himself in 
recurring to some scandal relative to himself in which Brienne's 
daughter had indulged, which so roused the count, that, but for 
respect to the queen, he would have chastised the flying cardi- 
nal. The mob in the streets became increasingly noisy — loud 
cries of " To arms, to arms," were heard in the midst of the 
palace — with wild imprecations against Mazarin; and intelli- 
gence was now conveyed to him that one of his carriages, which 
had preceded him to St. Germain, had been attacked, and the 
servants nearly killed. Seeing that no time was to be lost, he 
retired to another room, where he disguised himself in a red 
coat and a plumed hat, and, with two of his gentlemen, escaped 
by the Port de Richelieu. Reaching St. Germain in safety, and 
breathing rather freely again, his fixed habits overcame him, 
and he lingered there for days. 

The parliament, hearing of his movements, proceeded to pass 
fearful resolutions ; the friends of the queen dropped off — under 
every fresh betrayal she bore up with a creditable magnanimity, tG> 
her faithful attendant Mde. de Motteville alone unbosoming her 
sorrows. " I could wish," said the high- minded lady, " that it 
were always night ; for though I cannot sleep, the silence and 
the solitude please me; for in the day I see none but those who 
deceive me." She now contemplated a bold measure ; to take 
away her son to Havre, where Mazarin would meet her, and 
there to be safe, and to detain the princes until a favourable 
treaty could be effected. The Duke of Orleans was privately in- 
formed of the queen's plan, and De Retz roused the populace — 
caused the Palais Royal to be surrounded, seized the city gates, 
and, in short, placed the royal family within the clutches of the 
Fronde. It is further said that De Retz, conceiving the blow 
might now safely be struck, proposed to seize the young king, to 
remove Anne to a convent, and to declare the duke regent ; but 
Gaston had not spirit for the occasion — the very order to sur- 
round the Palais Royal De Retz made the duchess sign in her 
husband's name. Anne took the officer of the guard into the 
room in which Louis slept, and showed him that the king was 
there. That officer went out to pacify the people with the assur- 
ance that all was quiet ; — mob-like, the Parisian ruffians were 
not satisfied without occular demonstration, and insisted on go- 
ing to the bed-side of the king. The queen instantly commanded 
that a portion of these friends of liberty should be admitted ; 

d 2 



40 LIBERATION OF THE PRINCES. 

and, when they beheld the sweet repose of the boy amidst all 
these dreadful tumults, the open bearing of the queen, and the 
evident quiet of the palace, some of better principles among 
these " reformers," went back to their virtuous friends, and so 
far from thinking the queen ought to be interfered with, loaded 
the young prince with blessings. The queen's presence of mind 
led her farther to order the keys of the city gates to be given up 
to the citizens, and by her readiness, a threatening night passed 
away better than might have been expected. The ever feeble 
Gaston, feeling in some degree ashamed, went down to the par- 
liament to explain : his guardian angel the coadjutor had worked 
up the mob to encourage him by their vociferations, and to 
threaten with their vengeance such as should dare to blame the 
duke. But Mole, the president, was not thus to be put down, and 
boldly censured the lieutenant-general for the peril he had fer- 
mented, and told him that the king was prisoner in his own 
capital. Before any other voice could be heard in support of 
the president, Gaston replied, that " the king had been a pri- 
soner in the hands of Mazarin, but, thank God! he is so no 
longer." So that this kind of repartee sometimes found in 
weak people, pacified the people and averted a storm against 
Orleans. 

These matters were soon known to Mazarin at St. Germain ; 
he decided to proceed to Havre, and liberate the princes. De 
Bar, distrusting him, would only permit him to enter with two 
attendants, with whom he waited on Conde, and informed him 
that he was unconditionally free. The captive had all along 
maintained his equanimity — even his habitual pleasantry had not 
deserted him — so much so that when the Count of Harcourt, who 
had been sent by Mazarin to convey the prince from Marcoussi, 
took his seat in the carriage, Conde perpetrated an impromptu, 
thus translated by Mr. James : — 

" That man, so fat and short, 

So much renown'd in story, 

The famous Count de Harcourt, 

All blazing forth with glory, 
Who succour'd Casal at its need, and who retook Turin, 
Is now turn'd bailiff's follower to Julius Mazarin !" 

Notwithstanding — liberty was sweet, and a fiery spirit like 
that of Conde, after the privations of 13 months, must have re- 
joiced. In the ebullitions of gratulation it is not to be wondered 
at that Conde who, with his brothers, dined this day with the 
cardinal, should at first have used expressions of thankfulness, 
that Mazarin might hope would enable him to use Conde in his 
hour of need. He was mistaken — Conde soon chagrined the 
troubled minister, and gloried in his vexation ; who, seeing his 



THE PRINCES VISIT ANNE. 41 

miscalculation, now set out, with about 100 horsemen in his 
train, for Picardy. At Abbeville he was refused permission to 
pass through the town ; he was driven from Doullens ; many 
suggested that a force should be raised for his protection — but 
he was too prudent for that. He proceeded to Sedan, and thence 
to Cologne, in which places he was most respectfully treated. 

Conde, his brothers, and the Duke of Orleans, now visited 
the queen, a constrained line of conduct characterising these in- 
terviews. Being little better than a prisoner, she anxiously 
looked to her favourite's grand receipt, time, to release her from 
the hands of the Philistines, The party of Conde received a 
great accession in the Duke of Beaufort and Mdme. de Mont- 
bazon; who, offended at the limited confidence placed in them 
by the coadjutor, now abandoned the Fronde, and ranged them- 
selves under the victor of Rocroi — bringing considerable popu- 
lar eclat. This probably hastened the defection of La Roche- 
foucault, who, having smarted from the commanding superiority 
of the coadjutor, had the most bitter feelings towards him; and 
as he had great influence over the mind of Conde's lovely sister 
Longueville, his separation from the party of De Retz was severe- 
ly felt by the old Fronde. De Bouillon was easily gained, by ar- 
ranging the dispute about Sedan ; and his brother Turenne, worn 
out with his incongruous position, and anxious to obliterate his 
rebellion, readily engaged in the royal service once more, Maza- 
rin's influence had never been lost with the Picardy governors 
and officers; and, during his exile at Briihl, near Cologne, a good 
understanding had been kept up, and he had as early intimation 
of events almost as if he had remained at Paris. The clergy had 
been led to join with a large portion of nobles in desiring a 
meeting of the states-general, and the Fronde, led by De Retz, 
who still clutched the weak Gaston, sought that object — as in rea- 
lity the influence of the coadjutor would have predominated. 
Matters having been in this position when Conde and his bro- 
thers returned from Havre, the same people, who had celebrated 
his capture by bon-fires, now lit them again to celebrate his libe- 
ration ! — Amidst all this acclamation, and almost before the smell 
of gunpowder, created by the letting off of the fire-works to tes- 
tify the public joy at Conde's release, had passed away, ancient 
animosities began to elbow out the newly formed fine feelings 
of generosity and friendship. 

In his retirement, Mazarin directed the queen how to act un- 
der these new circumstances — nor, indeed, was she a slow scholar. 
In Mazarin's absence the parliament had passed a decree that he 
was for ever excluded from acting as minister, on account of his 
being a cardinal. The old enemy of the coadjutor, the chief 
president, directly proposed that the terms of the edict should 
for ever exclude all cardinals ; as the ambition of De Retz for 



42 THE PRINCES IN NEW DANGER. 

the purple was notorious, Conde testified his approbation of the 
motion. The nobles pressed vigorously for the assembling of 
the states-general, and the queen must have complied had the 
princes joined : but Mazarin strenuously advised Anne to secure 
the opposition of Conde to this dreaded measure. Gaston was dis- 
suaded by Conde, and the coadjutor seemed unaccountably to be 
quiescent under the put-off of this meeting, through the illusory 
promise of that assembly being called on the majority of the 
king. The queen felt grateful to Conde; and, desirous to gratify 
him in return, was mortified by the magnitude of demands which 
she felt compelled to grant. The seals were, in consequence, 
taken from the aged Chateauneuf and given to Mole ; Chavigni 
was also recalled. The hatred of the regent to the former sweet- 
ened the bitterness of the pill, and she farther consoled herself 
by the hope that Chavigni would cause a rupture between the 
Prince of Conde and the Duke of Orleans. She required that 
Conde should break off the projected marriage between Conti 
and Mdlle. de Chevreuse, which object was furthered by the 
beautiful Duchess de Longueville, who, jealous of her rival's 
charms, detested the idea of her attaining equal rank. 

Conti, enamoured of the fair mistress of De Retz, was incredu- 
lous of her disgrace; but her friends contrived to give him indis- 
putable proof of her infamy, and, from being an object of desire, 
Conti now regarded her with horror. On April 3,1651, the queen 
told Gaston that she had recalled Chavigni ; the Duke, in dud- 
geon, instantly repaired to his hotel, where he found De Retz, Ma- 
dame de Chevreuse, and her daughter. Conde, the other princes 
and nobles, with whom he now acted, soon followed, and a council 
was held to discuss what should be done. A scene of alterca- 
tion ensued, and De Retz soon divined the line of conduct Conde 
had pursued ; nor was the Duke of Orleans weak enough to be 
blind to the affront he had received. He shortly withdrew into an 
inner room, with his wife, De Retz and the two Chevreuses, when 
the coadjutor recommended a fresh rising of the people. Conde, 
Conti, and Beaufort had retired into the library, when Mademoi- 
selle de Chevreuse, springing towards the door, exclaimed, "No- 
thing is wanting but the turn of a key ! What a fine thing for a 
girl to arrest the winner of victories! " Gaston was alarmed, and 
commenced what De Retz well knew was an ominous whistle, 
and put off the measure till to-morrow morning. "Conde had irri- 
tated him by saying that in the service of his royal highness he 
would willingly raise troops ; but that he felt himself to be a 
coward in a war of pots-de-chambres ! A fresh affront was inten- 
tionally given by Conde and Conti sending the President Viole 
the next morning to the Duchess de Chevreuse, to decline the 
honour of a matrimonial connexion with her daughter. The 
yj-uig lady enjoyed in the idea of losing a deformed admirer; 



TRE COADJUTOR TURNS HERMIT. 43 

but a slighted beauty does not easily swallow affronts; and while 
digesting, as best she might, the studied insult, the coadjutor, as 
was his wont, being present at her toilet, a messenger arrived 
with important intelligence. The Duke of Orleans and the crea- 
tures of the queen and Conde had been closeted all the morn- 
ing ; and, as straws show which way the wind blows, it was no- 
ticed that the friends of De Retz were shunned by the aspirants 
to court favour. Well knowing the baseness of the Duke of Or- 
leans, and that it was equalled by his weakness, with his usual 
quickness, the coadjutor perceived his own danger, and at once 
struck out a course of action. He resolved to remove from 
public life, and to disengage himself from the Duke. 

Repairing at once to Gaston, and with apparent frankness 
and respect, he told him that, having helped his royal highness 
in the two main points, the expulsion of Mazarin and the libe- 
ration of Conde, he had now made up his mind to retire from 
public life, and to follow the spiritual duties of his profession ! 
The duke was delighted ; instead of hatred succeeding, as the 
ready perception of De Retz had suggested, the weak prince was 
eased of what he had neither sense nor nerve to rid himself of, 
and parted in good feeling with him, after having arranged a 
mode of secret communication. From the Luxembourg, the 
coadjutor bent his steps to the hotel of Conde, and to the prince 
likewise announced his intention to retire from the world, the 
flesh, and the devil — which highly amused the great gainer of 
victories. Conti congratulated him on his conversion, and, at part- 
ing, said, " Adieu, good brother hermit [" Every where he was 
laughed at — but he persevered, and prepared devotionally to en- 
ter upon the sacred functions of his office ! But pretending his 
life was in danger, or, at least, that the princes meant to arrest 
him, he got together a number of English soldiers, kept from 
their native land by the vigorous reign of Cromwell, and forti- 
fying the archiepiscopal residence, he turned one of the towers 
of the cathedral into a magazine, and the adjoinging houses into 
a species of barracks. Thus prepared, our new hermit remained 
on the watch in his cell ! He doubtless anticipated that the 
period would not be long before he should be again wanted, as 
he too well knew the jarring materials of which the princes and 
factious nobles were composed — and perhaps he speculated on a 
re-action in his own favour in the breast of Gaston or the regent. 
The insolence of Conde became insatiable, and his demands were 
little short of supreme power — indeed he literally demanded a 
dismemberment of France, and that he himself should reign over 
a kingdom resting on the Pyrenees, extending from the mouth 
of the Rhone to the Gironde. There at one time appeared no 
remedy : but to the honour of Mazarin it should be told that a 
letter of his yet extant shows his clear views and desires for the 



44 SOUND ADVICE OF MAZARIN. 

good of France and his royal mistress. It runs thus : " You are 
well aware, Madam, that the greatest enemy I have in the world 
is the coadjutor. Make use of him, Madam, rather than yield the 
prince the conditions he demands. Make him a cardinal, give 
him my place, put him in my apartments; he will still probably 
attach himself more to the Duke of Orleans than to your ma- 
jesty. But the Duke of Orleans does not wish to ruin the state; 
his intentions at the bottom are not bad. In a word, any thing, 
Madam, rather than grant the Prince of Conde that which he 
demands. If he should obtain it, there would only be left to 
carry him to Rheims to be crowned." Anne now resolved to try 
whether or not she could be aided by De Retz, and through him 
also effect the recall of the cardinal. She rather regretted his 
diminished power through the defection of Beaufort — but had 
no time to deliberate : she commissioned Marshal du Plessis to 
watch for De Retz on his nocturnal return at 1 o'clock from 
Mdlle. de Chevreuse— that he might show him the cardinal's 
letter. Believing much of the cardinal's sincerity, he also too 
well knew human nature to credit all. He agreed to visit the 
regent at 12 o'clock the following night in secret, and, before Du 
Plessis, threw her safe-conduct to himself in the fire, that he 
might gain credit for trust in the honour of the regent. 

Introduced at the time to Anne, the emergency seeming too 
pressing to her to admit of a long florid address, from this comp- 
troller of words as well as deeds, she somewhat brusquely inter- 
rupted him, with the practical question — " What will you do, 
then?" He replied, tersely, that Conde should be driven from 
Paris within a week, and a separation within 24 hours should be 
effected between the Duke of Orleans and that ambitious prince. 
The regent declared, if successful, the coadjutor should be made 
forthwith a cardinal, and be reckoned the second among her 
friends. He now adroitly required the restoration of the seals to 
Chateauneuf, aware that Orleans must support him, and that 
Conde must oppose that measure. Having that night arranged 
the modus operandi with the regent and Anne de Gonzaga — he 
instantly set his agents to work, to inundate Paris with torrents 
of libels and satires against Conde ; and hosts of criers, and the 
scum of the population, went about with low ribald ballads, and 
satires on the conduct of the ambitious Conde, holding him up 
to popular odium — all, or most, of which had been composed 
early in the morning in the hermitage of the pious coadjutor. 
When matters were deemed ripe, his mistress went to tell the 
regent he was going to the parliament: such was dame Anne's 
joy that she clasped Mdlle. de Chevreuse in her arms, and kiss- 
ing her repeatedly, with little self-respect, she exclaimed: " You 
rogue ! you are now doing me as much good as you have occa- 
sioned mischief to me !" 



HUMILIATION OF CONTI. 45 

Attended by 400, De Retz, on reaching the parliament, came 
upon the Prince of Conde, warming himself at the fire of an 
anti-room — they met politely. As the coadjutor had not for 
many weeks attended the parliament, and the Duke of Orleans 
had also absented himself, Conde's influence had been un- 
checked. Conde, on taking his place, launched forth violent in- 
vectives against Mazarin ; De Retz was too cunning to defend 
the absent minister, but railed also against him. Still Conde's 
influence was greater than the coadjutor had reckoned on— de- 
lays took place — some proposed assassinating Conde, and (truth 
must be told) the queen consulted a priest on the propriety of 
these means, which his reverence, under all the circumstances, 
pronounced expedient ! But De Retz, Mdlle. de Chevreuse, 
and other leaders of the Fronde, never would listen to this : 
upon which the regent observed that the coadjutor was not so 
daring as she had thought — and the Marshal du Plessis con- 
sidered scruples unworthy of a great man ! De Retz desired 
Conde's imprisonment, but would go no farther. Mazarin's 
absence kept all in confusion — every thing now tended to his 
return. Conde's situation became perilous from the popular 
defection, and the evil intentions of the court. On being misled 
as to the movements of some troops, which, although with a 
totally different object, some officious friends told him were 
about to surround the hotel de Conde, at 2 o'clock on the morn- 
ing, July 6, 1651, he left for his house at St. Maur; thence he 
wrote to the parliament to show that personal danger had driven 
him to this flight. The Duke of Orleans prevailed on Anne to 
recal the prince, and to try to effect a complete reconciliation — 
he came back, and all matters were to be arranged with the 
parliament. Mdlle. de Chevreuse and her mother attended to 
witness the proceedings, and, while there, the despicable Conti 
openly insulted the mistress of the coadjutor, having hired a mob 
of " radical reformers" to follow those ladies to their hotel, 
hissing and hooting. Their obscenity — pure souls that they 
were — was directed chiefly against the unquestionably guilty 
connexion between De Retz and the younger lady; and, probably 
upon the principle suggested by Solomon — " answer a fool 
according to his folly" — the coadjutor was not backward to con- 
coct an equally devotional assemblage, with the judicious differ- 
ence that his company greatly outnumbered their opponents ; 
and, catching the ape himself (Conti), the larger number— of out- 
raged virtue — conveyed the hunch-back before the ladies, and 
made him bow with all outward tokens of abject humiliation ! 

The evident course of this turbulence seems to have con- 
vinced Conde that Paris was no longer the place for his fiery 
spirit, as his ambition was not to be gratified on the bold state- 
ment of his pretensions, he therefore entered into negociations 

r> 5 



46 RIOT IN PARLIAMENT. 

with Spain — it is thought with a view to secure an ultimate re- 
fuge. Another altercation of a most threatening nature took place 
between De Retz and Conde at the parliament. Through the in- 
fluence of Mole, peace was in some measure restored, and it was 
agreed that the numerous retainers of each should be mutually 
dismissed. It was done ; on the return of the Duke of Roche- 
foucault, as he entered the hall in which the parliament sat, he 
slammed the door in the face of De Retz, who, knocking imme- 
diately, the duke, partly opening the door, let De Retz half way 
in — i. e. head and shoulders : in this position he held the coad- 
jutor, until with a hook and chain they had fastened the door, and 
pinned this prop of the church in this dangerous, undignified, 
and helpless condition. Swords were clashing on both sides of 
him — the Palais de Justice was thronged by a countless rabble — 
such was the feeling of peril, that the sober citizens were pre- 
paring for action — the palaces of the queen, Orleans, &c, were 
being filled with troops — and, probably, had a riot then com- 
menced, the city would have been laid in ashes. In the midst, 
by the coolness of the Marquis of Crenan, who called out that 
both De Retz and Conde would be killed, and therefore all 
should put up their swords — a cry of " Vive le Roi" burst from 
the throng of virtuous reformers, and their weapons were sheath- 
ed. The son of Mole violently pushed back La Rochefoucault, 
reproached him for his cowardice, opened the door as well as he 
could, and released De Retz. On all hands the sound of 
" coward" reached La Rochefoucault — who, looking very big, 
talked of strangling De Retz and Brissac, amidst the laughter of 
the bystanders. He had been ironically named frankness from the 
total absence of that quality in him ; De Retz, scornfully looking 
at him, said, " Friend Frankness, don't be spiteful I You are a 
coward, I am a priest — there won't be much blood spilt between 
us." At the instigation of Mole, something like peace being 
restored, all parties in feverish anxiety retired for the night. 
Conde afterward said, Paris was very nearly made a bonfire of, 
and what a triumph it would have been to Mazarin ! He de- 
manded of the regent an avowal in the king's name of his inno- 
cence — she told the haughty Conde the king should not be im- 
plicated, at least until his now fast approaching majority. 
Herein she was bolder than Mazarin, who advised that anything 
should be conceded rather than that Conde should break out 
into open rebellion, and so dismember the empire. 

She was not ignorant of the easily impressed character of 
her subjects, and saw the advantage of the parade — trappings 
and prestiges of royalty — and depending on producing a favour- 
able result, on the day of her son's attaining his majority, revived 
all ancient formalities, and, with the whole court, commenced 
the auspicious day with a visit of state to Louis in his bed-room. 



LOUIS XIV. OF AGE. 47 

Accompanied by trumpeters, and very many attendants, with 
nearly 1,000 noblemen on horseback, two by two, in splendid 
dresses, followed by the light horse of the queen ; then the light 
horse of the king, at the head of whom was the Count d'Olonne, 
in a dress of embroidered gold, and his sword in a baldrick of 
rich pearls ; wearing a hat with a large white plume and fire-co- 
loured feathers, he presented a glorious object to those lovers of 
spectacles — the Parisians. Next followed the grand prevot's 
company of 100 Swiss, in their peculiar costume, with their 
lieutenants, bearing the eaglet plume in their black velvet caps ; 
then came lieutenants-general and governors ; next heralds and 
trumpeters ; then the master of the ceremonies ; then the grand 
master of the artillery, leading all the marshals of France, except 
the Count of Harcourt, who, as grand ecuyer, went by himself, 
carrying the king's sword. Then came an immense number of 
pages bareheaded and on foot, preceding the garde-du-corps, 
who went immediately before the king. Louis now appeared— in 
the 14th year of his age — on a fiery steed, which he knew how 
to manage with ease. Around this good-looking and promising 
prince were esquires and numbers of the officers of the house- 
hold ; and he was followed by all the princes (but one) and all 
the peers. Crowds of guards, officers and attendants came after, 
and the long and splendid procession was brought up by the 
queen and her ladies, in carriages, surrounded by her own 
guards. After mass in the holy chapel, he repaired to the par- 
liament hall, where, addressing the assembly with dignity, the 
youthful monarch told them that, having attained his majority, 
he now took the government upon himself: the chancellor fol- 
lowed the king in an address, and the queen-regent formally 
resigned her authority into his hands. Louis then embraced his 
mother, and all did homage. 

Various decrees were formally passed, as the first acts of his 
reign; among them, one important act was that in favour of 
Conde — who, with his usual hauteur, had sent a contemptuous 
apology for his absence, which again so chafed Anne that she 
declared aloud, either she or Conde should perish ! On his 
part, the rash and haughty prince was greatly annoyed . by 
ministerial changes and other events, and felt satisfied that 
matters were preparing for the cardinal's recall. The Duke of 
Orleans entreated him not to retire from the court, — but, as 
Conde was resolute, he begged him to stop atAugerville until he 
heard from him. Some accounts say that Gaston, mocking him, 
being inwardly rejoiced at getting rid of his talented and supe- 
rior cousin, instructed the messenger not to arrive at Augerville 
till it was certain Conde was gone. Others that the courier really 
made a mistake, and went to Angerville : at length the letter of 
peace from the court reached the fiery prince, who coolly said, 



48 DEPARTURE OF CONDE. 

if it had come to hand at the proper time and place, he would 
have returned, but that, having travelled so far from Paris, it 
was not worth his while to return ! So that the ill- writing of the 
letter n again plunged France in a civil war. This ought to be a 
lesson to legislators and statesmen, and "all that are in autho- 
rity over us/ 7 to form their letters legibly, and to drop the silly 
fashion of writing so discreditably that none can decipher their 
scrawls. Conde knew that he had gone too far with Spain for 
his own safety, and dreaded the return of the cardinal. He 
arrived at Montrond on September 15, 1651, exactly a week 
after the king's majority, his family having been sent on before: 
surrounded there by his sister, Conti, La Rochefoucault, Ne- 
mours, and many others of note, he formed a plan of action, 
and, in pursuance, advanced to Guienne. Troops were raised, 
the taxes were seized, to make head against the king, Spain 
hasted to do her part towards the fermentation of this new 
civil war, which assumed the most threatening aspect. 

In the memoirs of De Retz, while he says that, in one sense, 
the proximate cause of the civil war may be attributed to the 
expansion which Mazarin, educated in a country where the 
papal authority had no bounds, endeavoured to give the royal 
prerogative ; in a larger view, we must look to far more remote 
causes. For more than twelve centuries, France had been go- 
verned by kings, but they were not, in some respects, so abso- 
lute as was Louis XIII. or Anne of Austria; their authority not 
having been constitutionally defined, as in England, but having 
rather been guided by received customs, deposited with the 
** etats generaux," and afterwards in the hands of the parlia- 
ment, 'lhe registering of treaties made exclusively by the 
crown, and the verification of edicts for the raising of money — 
were wholesome precautions, that foregone generations had 
adopted as steering between the unbridled license of the people 
and the exercise of regal despotism. Wise kings had appre- 
ciated this, but there had been dangerous ministers, tempted, by 
success, to think little of parliaments, and even to endeavour 
the reversal of their decrees ; and none had laboured in these 
mischievous efforts more assiduously than Richelieu, who would 
have governed without responsibility. As Mazarin succeeded 
him — dissimilar in most respects — a mere sharper in finance, 
supple in adversity, and an impostor in prosperity, he brought 
the government into contempt — the most dangerous disease of 
a state — the contagion of which spreads through all the mem- 
bers with rapidity : it is easy to conceive how destructive must 
be an administration, following close on the heels of the bad 
one of Richelieu, of a different, and even worse, character. 

Before farther entering upon the movements of these for- 
midable insurgents, it will be well to direct our attention to the 



DANGER OF THE COADJUTOR. 49 

state of matters at head-quarters: the clever coadjutor, either 
from the love of mischief in his mistress (who by some is said 
to have set him on) , or from a desire to see how far his power 
would go, or from egregious vanity, which prompted him to 
mistake himself, now made love to the queen. In the vexa- 
tion which this is said to have occasioned to Anne, she removed 
with Louis to Fontainebleau, to be out of his way. A bold and 
shameful attempt of an accredited agent of Conde's, Gourville, to 
assassinate the coadjutor, had nearly turned the scale by its suc- 
cess. To his praise be it recorded — and of moral actions it must 
be confessed he had too few to be able to spare any — that the 
offender having been secured, De Retz himself with difficulty 
spared his life, after a few months' imprisonment in the Bastille, 
How different his conduct to that of Conde herein ! De Retz 
alone had stood between Conde and assassination, and in sav- 
ing him had nearly lost every thing himself — look at the re- 
turn ! and then see how little vindictive there was about this ex- 
traordinary man ! Well may the poet say,, " None are all evil." 
He resisted the queen's determination to recall Mazarin, but as 
she had through his advice made effectual terms with the Duke 
de Bouillon, and his brother the great Turenne, she sent one 
Bertet from Fontainebleau to Paris to inform the coadjutor and 
his more immediate colleagues, who, well knowing the danger 
to themselves, from the people — from the Duke of Orleans (who 
in fact at once issued an order for their arrest, which was only 
just too late), and from the cardinal — immediately quitted 
Paris. Meanwhile the queen put herself at the head of the 
army, and with the court remained some weeks at Bourges ; 
here they divided : the larger part, under Harcourt, opposed 
Conde in Guienne; the smaller, under Clerambault, went to 
blockade Montrond. The relatives and immediate friends of 
Conde had got away quickly to Bordeaux on the approach of 
the royal army. Under the Marquis de Persau, Montrond sus- 
tained a regular siege for a year. 

Mazarin who, even in his exile at Cologne, had governed 
the court, re-entered the kingdom more like a sovereign taking 
possession of a throne than as a minister resuming his post : he 
was escorted by an army of 7,000 men (Voltaire says), raised at 
his own expense. The Marshal d'Hoquincourt commanded his 
little army — all the officers wore green scarfs, which was the 
colour of the cardinal's livery : white was the king's ; Conde's, 
the Isabella colour. It was remarked with surprise that one 
who had hitherto conducted himself with comparative modesty 
should have had the boldness to allow an army to assume his 
livery, as though he were independent of a master — but he was 
strong in the favour of the queen. The king and his brother 
went out to meet at him at Poictiers, while the queen stood at a 



50 PARISIAN PLEASANTRY. 

window. Meanwhile the Duke of Orleans raised troops, that 
he was unable to command, nor could he properly direct their 
employ ; the parliament fulminated fresh decrees against Maza- 
rin, declaring him a traitor. It was seriously discussed whether 
or not they should offer a very large reward to any one who 
should assassinate him. The wits of the day caused papers to be 
stuck up in the shop windows of Paris, some offering 150,000 
livres to be divided— so much to him who should slit the car- 
dinal's nose — so much for an ear — so much for an eye ; and 
their pleasantry went so far as to enlarge considerably the pro- 
portion for qualifying him to run for the gelding's plate — (to use 
the country-gentleman expression of squire Western) — which 
would most effectually have debared him from the tiara — by a 
somewhat fanciful turn of that clerico-celibacy requiring church. 
However, this humour produced no other damage to Mazarin 
than the ridicule it created ; on his part no assassination seems 
ever to have been sanctioned; nor during these trials were 
many great crimes committed ; for, to the shame of professors 
of Christianity be it spoken, a reason is assigned by one who 
knew human nature well — this was not a religious war ! 

The parliament of Paris seem to have been swayed by a 
comprehensive infatuation : after solemnly decreeing an assassi- 
nation which excited derision, it was decreed that a deputation 
of conseillers were to proceed to the frontiers to take cognizance 
of the army which conducted Mazarin. Two of these were so im- 
prudent as to go with some peasants to break down the bridges 
over which the cardinal was to pass: being made prisoners by the 
king's troops, they were soon released amidst the jeers and ridi- 
cule of all parties. In their wisdom, the parliament proceeded 
to declare the Prince de Conde guilty of high treason, ordered 
the newiy-raised troops of Gaston to march against Mazarin, 
and at the same time prohibited their being paid out of the 
public treasury. The parliament of Bordeaux, being much 
farther from court, observed a far more uniform conduct; it was 
less agitated by contending parties, and therefore, not assem- 
bling with the same tumult and exasperation, did not pass 
measures one day which astonished itself the next. The forces 
raised by the Duke of Orleans were placed under the Duke of 
Beaufort, and were joined by the Duke of Nemours ; this army 
was ordered by the weak Gaston to remain on this side of the 
Loire, and by no means to go far from the capital. Conde com- 
manded it to march to Montrond, and thence to join his troops 
in Guienne: to add to the confusion, Nemours and Beaufort 
quarrelled, and thus the3 r rather injured than helped Conde. 
The forces of neither party were numerous — the exhausted state 
of the country prevented that — but while, on the one hand, 
100,000 men can sometimes scarcely take a town, on the other, 



ESCAPES OF CONDE AND GOURVILLE. 51 

the conflict of two armies, of not more than 7,000 each, may 
decide the fate of a kingdom. 

Louis XIV., educated in adversity, went with his mother 
and brother, and the cardinal, from province to province, scarcely 
better attended by troops than in after times of peace he was by 
his ordinary guard ; being pursued by an army of Spaniards, 
and troops raised by Conde's partisans, headed by that able gene- 
ral himself, into the very heart of his kingdom : the prince in 
his marches took many towns, and every where increased his 
party. He had been forced to quit Bordeaux by reason of the 
dissensions of his friends and followers, and now adopted the 
bold resolution to pass through the centre of France, to join 
Nemours, who commanded the choicest of his adherents. Ac- 
companied by La Rochefoucault, six other gentlemen and Gour- 
ville, disguised as common troopers, under feigned names, they 
proceeded to Cahusac, where they were endangered by their own 
friends : in distress for provisions they, after night-fall, reached 
a little cabaret, where Conde undertook to cook an omelet for the 
party, but awkwardly he tumbled the whole contents of the 
frying-pan into the fire. They underwent very great risks and 
hardships : on one occasion they personated the royal troops, 
and were compelled to pass the guards at a city gate under the 
muskets of the king's soldiers. Again, a peasant at one place 
actually recognized the prince, and called him aloud — but the 
bold and ready Gourville laughed him out of his own senses. 
At length from sheer exhaustion they had almost given up this 
romantic attempt' asking a man to guide them, he by mistake 
led them up to a sentinel — they were challenged, and Gourville 
answered that they were officers of the king going on their way 
to the army. Conde asked for his friend, the governor ; but, 
fearing to stay too long, the others walked off when the prince 
said they were queer follows not to wait, but as they had walked 
so far together he would not desert them — so, leaving compli- 
ments for Bussey, he passed on without being suspected. Going 
to Gien, where the court then was, a courier recognized one of 
the party — he disappeared — but overtaking the prince's valet 
and alarming him, he confessed that Conde was one of them. 
The fellow now hastened back, telling his discovery; armed 
parties were sent to search for Conde ; and, after incredible es- 
capes, he at length saw the advanced-guard of his own army 
before him, and the troops received him with joy and gladness. 
Nor did he arrive before he was wanted, as Nemours and Beau- 
fort had nearly destroyed all discipline by their unseemly quar- 
rels. His presence in this unexpected manner did a great deal 
to quell the animosities and correct the disorders of his army, 
and (as his forte lay — in familiar parlance — in striking the iron 
while hot), he formed instantaneously the boldest resolutions. 



52 ALARM OF THE COURT. 

The hopes of the royalists rested upon the great Turenne — 
Mazarin was embarrassed between his feelings of gratitude to 
Hoquincourt, and his appreciation of the overpowering abilities 
of Turenne. He therefore unhappily, with his usual indecision, 
proposed to the latter to accept of the command of only half, 
leaving Hoquincourt to lead that part at Blenau. Conde tell 
upon this division, and dispersed it almost as soon as he at- 
tacked it. Turenne could not be informed of it ; and Mazarin, 
in a fright, ran to Gien, in the middle of the night, to wake the 
king : the little court were thrown into the greatest alarm, and 
it was proposed to save the king by flight, privately conducting 
him to Bourges. Increased consternation pervaded them all, 
as Conde, flushed with his success, approached Gien ; but they 
were in some measure re-assured by Turenne, who by this time 
had arrived to try to avert the consequences of Hoquincourt's 
disaster. He so judiciously posted his forces — poor as w T ere the 
remains of the army, in comparison with Conde's— that he 
averted the danger ; for when Conde learnt who commanded, 
he too well knew his ability to hope to overcome that great 
general ; so that he drew off his troops from the daring attempt 
to take king, queen, cardinal, and court, prisoners, from which 
fatal result they were alone saved by the genius of Turenne. 
The competent military judges, I believe, are all agreed that, 
on this remarkable occasion, which, from what hung upon it, is 
considered perhaps the most memorable battle in French his- 
tory, it is difficult to award the palm ; for, if Conde's genius 
struck out, and succeeded to a great extent in working out, a 
masterly plan — on the other hand, almost unequalled skill was 
shown by Turenne — with a beaten army, and on a sudden emer- 
gency, to thwart superior force and equal ability. 

Conde marched to Paris, where his hatred to Mazarin, and 
the splendour of his all but successful attack on the court, ren- 
dered him welcome at first. But that gay and giddy city was 
torn by factions, and the parliament oscillated between the par- 
ties of the court, the prince, the Duke of Orleans, and the 
Fronde. The people were like a tempestuous sea — all were con- 
triving their own interests — agreed in no one thing but detes- 
tation of the cardinal ; to secure whose expulsion, this devotional 
populace carried the shrine of St. Genevieve through Paris, which 
miracle, the saint, they rightly judged, had just as much power 
to work, as her appropriate function — to grant rain ! Nothing 
was going on but negociations between the chiefs of parties, 
deputations from the parliament, asssemblies of the chambers, 
seditions among the people, and the whole country in arms: 
guards were kept before the gates of the monasteries. As 
Conde had called in the Spaniards to his aid, Charles IV., Duke 
of Lorraine, having been driven out of his dominions, and who 



READINESS OF TURENNE. 53 

commanded no power nor fortune, but an army of 8,000 men, 
which he sold annually to the King of Spain, went to Paris with 
his followers. Mazarin offered him more money to return than 
Conde had given him to come, and therefore he soon retired 
out of France, laying it waste as he passed, and carrying away 
the money from both parties. Conde's influence in Paris daily 
diminished, and his troops became fast thinned, Turenne was 
now conducting the royal army to Paris, with the king and 
court. Coming to Orleans, they were not in sufficient strength 
to face Conde's army under the Dukes of Beaufort and Ne- 
mours ; it was necessary to secure the bridge of Gergeau, and 
this gave opportunity to the prince's generals to take the royal 
army in flank. Turenne arrived personally just as the Baron 
de Sirot had planted cannon on the middle of the bridge, so as 
to command the passage. He could here only get together 200 
men, and they were destitute of powder; he placed them at the 
windows which commanded the bridge, himself advancing with 
30 men, while in aloud voice, so that the enemy might hear, he 
ordered his soldiers not to fire ! Thus disguising his want of 
ammunition, he marched on to the enemy's lodgment — sustain- 
ing the fire of the enemy until Hoquincourt could throw up a 
barricade ; he then fell behind it, and defended himself for three 
hours till his own regiments came up. Putting himself at their 
head, he marched to the lodgment, carried it after a murderous 
assault, in which Sirot was killed, drove the enemy back, and 
blew up the bridge, so as to screen the king's army. With the 
modesty of greatness, he described it, in a letter to his sister, as 
" an affair of no great consequence ;" but the queen thanked 
him for having hereby saved the state. 

The royalists at length reached the neighbourhood of the 
metropolis, and the young king, from the summit of Charonne, 
beheld the battle of St. Anthony, where those two able generals, 
with little armies, performed such great things as to exalt their 
previously high reputation. The Prince de Conde, with a few 
noblemen and soldiers, sustained, and repulsed, the first attack 
of the royal army: the imbecile Duke of Orleans, uncertain 
which side to embrace, remained in his palace of the Luxem- 
bourg. Cardinal de Retz (for Anne had kept her word, and 
secured him the appointment to the purple while she was at 
Fontainebleau, and during these distractions the stormy cardinal 
had cantoned himself once more in his archbishopric,) and the 
parliament awaited the result of this battle in anxiety. The 
timid citizens, afraid of both parties, had shut the city gates, 
and permitted none to go either in or out — while the flower of 
French nobility were shedding their blood in the suburbs. At 
this battle of St. Anthony it was where the Duke dc Roche- 
foucault was struck blind by a blow over his eyes; in short, 



54 SENSIBILITY OF CONDE. 

nothing was to be seen but young noblemen killed or wounded : 
they were brought to this gate, which the citizens refused to 
open. Mademoiselle, the daughter of the Duke of Orleans, 
espoused the party of Conde, whom her father was too timid 
effectually to aid ; she caused the gates to be opened to receive 
the wounded, and dared to order the cannon of the Bastille to be 
fired upon the king's troops. The royal army drew back : Conde 
gained — and it was all he gained — glory. But Mademoiselle 
ruined her long cherished schemes of ambition, for she had 
always contemplated being married to her cousin Louis XIV., 
although much his senior ; so that when Mazarin heard of her 
temerity, he exclaimed, " Those cannon have killed her hus- 
band ! " Conde snatched a hasty interview at the gate with 
Mademoiselle; she described him afterwards as covered from 
head to foot with blood and dust, his cuirass knocked in, the 
scabbard of his sword gone, so that he held it by the naked 
blade. As he approached the daughter of Orleans, a momentary 
gush of anguish at the loss of dead and dying friends overcame 
him — he fell on a seat, burst into tears, and said, " Forgive me, 
I have lost all my friends ! " As best she might, she comforted 
him with the assurance that of those whom they had seen car- 
ried into the city many were only wounded : she tried to detain 
him, but he hurried away, declaring it should never be said he 
shrunk from meeting the detested Mazarins. Turenne's troops 
now hemmed in Conde's force, and he withdrew within the 
walls of Paris ; the insurgents were enabled to carry off their 
wounded, and Conde, almost the last who took refuge within 
the walls, at length passed the gates in safety. This took place 
July, 1652. Voltaire, to his praise, thinking more of the injus- 
tice done to the people than of the prodigies of courage and 
the crop of " glory," says that those who knew the shameful re- 
sources of these heroes, which entailed such frightful misery on 
the sufferers, would rather feel pity than admiration. Gourville, 
who, as we have seen, was a devoted adherent of Conde, con- 
fesses he himself robbed one of the public receiver's offices, 
and that he seized a certain post-master in his lodgings, and 
made him pay a ransom for his liberty : and such affairs were 
too common. 

This bloody business at the gate of St. Anthony having been 
fatal to Mazarin's nephew, young Mancini, it is probable the 
uncle only added this severe stroke to the catalogue of the sins 
of Conde. The latter, it was evident, could not long keep pos- 
session of Paris, and yet the king could not enter it. Conde's 
influence abated, from several circumstances : still he had his 
partisans in the parliament. As several murders had taken 
place, it was supposed at Conde's instigation, his popularity fast 
naned, and his daring to assume the function of issuing an arret, 



HIS WEAKNESS. 55 

declaring the Duke of Orleans lieutenant-general of the king- 
dom, though the king was of age, so inflamed the court that, in 
a rage, the queen caused Louis to transfer the parliament to 
Pontoise. Some few members obeyed — so that two parliaments 
were then sitting, disputing each other's authority, and issuing 
contradictory decrees ; but all parties yet agreed in demanding 
the expulsion of Mazarin, and to this demand the court was 
compelled to listen. 

An infamous conspiracy, ending in an awful catastrophe, 
had taken place. A very frightful riot, attended with wanton 
butchery and the burning down of the Hotel de Ville, upon 
the whole, appears attributable to Conde. After these hor- 
rible scenes, the more sober citizens began anxiously to de- 
sire a cessation of these sad troubles, a strong dislike was in- 
creasing against Conde — the author of all these evils. Fear had 
so struck almost every body, that the seats in the parliament, 
and the assemblies at the town hall, were miserably attended. 
Conde and Orleans had it all their own way — they appointed 
fresh officers to all posts, civil and municipal, new sheriffs, and 
constituted themselves the government — in short, none dared 
to oppose them. Every thing was in a state of anarchy, and 
from the license Conde had been compelled to encourage, he 
and Orleans now, in their turn, suffered. Beaufort and Nemours 
were always wrangling, and the brothers-in-law at last agreed to 
fight a duel (if the expression be allowable) of five against five, 
before the Hotel Vendome, when Beaufort shot Nemours through 
the heart, and two other noblemen of the party were killed. 
Nemours had one quality by which he was endeared to many — 
courage ; and he had ever tried to keep Conde within bounds, 
even offering to give up all his own claims to effect that object. 
Chavigni and the Duke of Bouillon died just at the same time : 
the former caught a fatal illness in visiting Conde, who was suf- 
fering then from typhus fever. Hearing Chavigni was dying, 
Conde, convalescent, went to see his suffering friend : finding 
him in the agonies of death, he was affected to tears — but, be- 
ing noticed on going out, he had the weakness to be ashamed 
of any manifestation of feeling, and began to laugh, observing 
of the dying man, that he was " as ugly as the devil !" Bouil- 
lon's death was a great blow, he was distinguished by a powerful 
mind and high character, and from his dislike to Mazarin (so 
great was his influence), he probably would have secured his 
perpetual banishment : he died of the same fever which ravaged 
Paris, August 9, at Pontoise. Paris was now in a state of star- 
vation. De Retz contrived to increase the popular distrust and 
hatred of Conde and Orleans, whose influence rapidly waned. 
Just then the Duke of Lorraine commenced a return to Paris 
with his ruffian troops, hoping to profit by the awful confusion ; 



56 GASTON aUITS PARIS. 

and the Spanish commander thought he might as well do a 
little business on his own account, by bringing up an army of 
the inveterate enemies of France. As he therefore at once in- 
vaded the frontiers, it was no longer matter of doubt that some 
bold effort must be made to break up the influence of the 
refractory princes, who otherwise would effectually destroy the 
rights of Louis XIV. At the suggestion of the cardinal him- 
self, that the little royal parliament at Pontoise might secure 
increased weight by the unavoidable measure, they humbly soli- 
cited the king to remove that obnoxious minister ! Louis 
published a declaration, wherein he acknowledged, though he 
parted with his services, he knew how to value them, and de- 
plored his exile. Voltaire contrasts herein France with Eng- 
land : Louis XIV. became the peaceable master of his kingdom 
by allowing the exile of Mazarin ; while the king of England 
lost his head for having sacrificed Strafford on the scaffold — 
tracing different effects from the same weaknesses. The one, 
by abandonment of his favourite, emboldening a people who 
breathed nothing but war — hating kings ; and the other by ba- 
nishing the cardinal, removing the pretence for sedition from a 
people weary of war, and abstractedly lovers of regal dominion. 

On learning the actual departure of the cardinal, the citizens 
of Paris voluntarily sent a deputation to the king to entreat him 
to enter his capital. Seeing that matters would tend to that 
point, De Retz shaped his course accordingly ; and privately as- 
sured the court party that he could bring it to pass with safety. 
The queen thanked him, acknowledging his power, but suggested 
that it would not be safe for him to appear as active for this ob- 
ject, at least as a politician, but that he could do more as the 
head of the clergy. Having seen the Duke of Orleans, he con- 
vinced him that his faction was undone, and that nothing re- 
mained for Gaston but to retire to Blois, therefore he ought to 
make a merit of necessity, and, lowering his personal demands, 
try to help forward the peace of France. This weak man, who 
had been so long tossed about like a shuttlecock between fac- 
tions, accepted the Cardinal de Retz's advice, elicited in no 
very dignified manner; for on the strong wish of the duchess, 
his wife, that he should withdraw, as it was vain to flatter him- 
self with hopes of good on the return of the king, the feeble 
Gaston, as if he had been advised to throw himself into the 
Seine, exclaimed : " Et ou diable irai-je ?" (And where the 
devil shall I go ?) He submitted to the royal order by which 
he was sentenced to proceed to Blois, where, on finding every 
thing so peaceable about him, it is said, he found it difficult to 
imagine how matters should a few days before have been in 
such confusion. Here Gaston of Orleans, unfortunate in all his 
enterprises, passed the remainder of his days, as the French 



DE RETZ TRIUMPHANT. 57 

would say, in gloriously, but, it is reported, in repentance. He was 
the second of the sons of Henry the Great who died in compara- 
tive obscurity. The Cardinal de Retz himself, through Anne de 
Gonzaga, sounded the queen, to know whether or not he could 
with safety make his appearance at the court ? Mazarin having 
been written to, consented, and the queen was well pleased. 
Attended by a host of clericals, and a considerable guard of re- 
tainers, De Retz repaired to Compiegne, where, even up to the 
moment of his arrival, it was debated how he should be treated. 
Some were for arrest — some for death; but Prince Thomas of 
Savoy, who filled Mazarin's post, warmly opposed all breach of 
honour, and he was received with distinction. De Retz himself 
informs us he was impelled to this course by the entreaties of 
M. de Fontenay, who concluded a long and persuasive address 
to him by an adjuration that he " would stay the dangers which 
he well knew r must forcibly present themselves" to the late 
leader of the Fronde. — " He was a cardinal, and archbishop of 
Paris; he enjoyed the confidence of the public — was only 3 7 
years old — on him it depended to save the city, to save the 
state!" The turbulent Frondeur confesses he was touched, for 
though De Fontenay had told him nothing which he knew not 
previously, these matters were presented more sensibly to his 
reflection. He describes the interviews he had with the queen 
as ending on her part in expressions of gratitude for the effect 
he had produced on the mind of Gaston, and with the public, 
towards the entrance of the king. De Retz made a kind of 
triumphant entry into Paris on his return, when he put the 
finishing stroke to the extrusion of the Duke of Orleans. 
Notwithstanding, the Cardinal de Retz was far from feeling 
himself at ease. 

The Prince de Conde, seeing that his occupation was gone, 
abandoned by almost all his partisans in France, and but coldly 
helped by Spain, and that he could no longer prevent Paris from 
making its peace with the court, went to Flanders to join the 
Duke of Lorraine, whence he contrived to renew a destructive 
civil war : the disturbances of his partisans continued also for 
some time at Bordeaux, The Duke of Beaufort followed Or- 
leans to Blois. Although the crisis was over, a fear of danger 
to the royal family affected many of their friends, who in num- 
bers left the city for the Bois de Boulogne, endeavouring to stay 
them from the perils of entrance into Paris. The court stopped, 
and a consultation, which Turenne attended, ensued, when the 
scale was turned by that great man — who was supported by the 
courage of the queen, against the opinions of the majority. Louis 
XIV., with Prince Thomas of Savoy at his side, put himself at 
the head of his guards, and came upon a vast crowd assembled 
at the porte St. Honore; — fear was sent to the winds, — one tre- 



58 RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF ROYALTY. 

mendous and unbroken shout told the returning loyalty of the 
people, and, with thunders of applause, the king was conveyed 
to the Louvre. De Retz heading a large body of magistracy, 
nobles, and clergy, waited on the steps to receive him ; and the 
disgusting adulation which followed could only be appreciated by 
those who were behind the scenes, and knew that the foremost 
were the very men who only the day before had consulted again, 
in its most fearful form, to light the fires of civil war for the ex- 
press purpose of destroying the king's hopes ! At night nothing 
but gaiety and joy was to be witnessed among the lower orders. 
They surrounded the Louvre — butchers, courtezans and the 
scum of that filthy city — all roaring out at the top of their loyal 
lungs, " Vive le voi ! Vive la reine !" Turenne, standing near, 
whispered De Retz, u They made just the same noise for the 
Duke of Lorraine, the other day." Turenne afterwards took 
him aside, and asked him if he felt safe ? " Yes," replied De 
Retz, " in every sense." 

The royal authority was re-established — the wars of the 
Fronde were ended — the insurgent princes were crushed — the 
influence of faction was over ; and though Conde kept up agita- 
tion for a time, in reality, the foundation of that vast power, 
which lasted throughout the long reign of Louis XIV., was now 
laid on a solid basis, — the tranquillity of the kingdom being 
secured by the banishment of Cardinal Mazarin. A general 
amnesty was declared ; from Pontoise the parliament was re- 
called to Paris ; a third edict of the king excepted some from 
the benefits of the amnesty, and contained stringent clauses 
against the said offenders — De Retz was not of this number. 
The parliament, that had formerly been at the feet of Conde. 
now condemned him to lose his life for contempt in not appear- 
ing to answer its accusation ! The very day after the king's ar- 
rival all was as quiet as if the Fronde had never been heard of — 
as if there had been no civil wars. This, perhaps, in addition to 
the natural fickleness of the French character, may in a great 
measure be attributed to the fact that there was a total want of 
sympathy between the people and their late leaders, who, hav- 
ing no great grievances to complain of, merely stirred up the base 
passions of a base rabble for their own base interests. I have 
brought my reader to October 1652 : — the French monarchy 
now rises like a phoenix from its ashes. But the important 
events on which we are entering demand that a fresh section 
should be devoted to their recital. 



FRANCE SUFFERS EXTERNALLY. 59 



SECTION II. 



Treaty of Westphalia — Determination to put down Conde — Close of the 
public career of De Retz — Death of Mademoiselle de Chevreuse — Arrest 
of De Retz — Remarkable astrological predictions — Removal of De Retz 
— His escape — Interesting adventures by land and sea — His travels in 
Spain — Marriage of Mazarin's nieces — High notions of Louis XIV. — 
Queen Christina — Oliver Cromwell — Charles II. a Roman Catholic — 
Testimonies to the greatness of Cromwell — Disgusting conduct of the 
Stuarts — Taking of Dunkirk — Infamous murder by Queen Christina 
— Fear of Louis marrying one of Mazarin's nieces — Peace between 
France and Spain — Marriage of Louis XIV. — Pardon of Conde — Ava- 
rice of Mazarin — Marriages of his nieces — Final illness and characte- 
ristic death of Mazarin — Henrietta married to the Duke of Anjou — 
Female intrigues — Disgraceful amours of Louis XIV. — Fouquet's am- 
bition — Dissimulation of the king — The government — Fouquet's arrest 
and lengthened imprisonment — His death — The French at Rome — Mag- 
nificent carousal at Versailles — Astrologers and Fools — Free trade — 
Ship-building — Fashion of Dress — Policy of the Bourbons — French 
Navy — Dutch commerce — The Bishop of Munster — Repose and gran- 
deur of France and Louis XIV. 



Distracted and torn with these internal discords and wars, 
the state had been also attacked successfully from without. — 
The benefits resulting from the battles of Rocroi, Lens, and 
Norlingen, had passed away. Dunkirk was retaken by the 
Spaniards ; that people had also driven the French out of Bar- 
celona ; and they had retaken Casal, in Italy. The emperor 
had sold to the King of France the sovereignty of Alsace (see 
p. 6,) for 3,000,000 of livres. This was effected in 1648, by 
the treaty of Westphalia, which, forming a basis for future trea- 
ties, a new electorate was created in favour of the house of Ba- 
varia. The rights of all the princes, the imperial towns, and the 
privileges of the most inconsiderable Germans, were confirmed ; 
the emperor's power was confined within narrower bounds, 
and the French, united with the Swedes, became the legislators 
of the empire. Much of this had been effected by the arms of 
Sweden, Gustavus Adolphus having first checked the imperial 
power ; and success had followed the efforts of his daughter, 
Christina. Wrangel, the Swedish general, was upon the point 
of entering Austria, and Konigsburg had become master of half 
of the city of Prague, and was besieging the other, when this 



60 REBELLION OF CONDE. 

peace was concluded. It is true, Sweden gained more than 
France, for she obtained Pomerania. many other towns, and 
considerable sums of money : she had also wrested from the 
emperor certain benefices which belonged to the Roman Catho- 
lics, and transferred them to the Lutherans, against which Rome 
exclaimed as impiety, declaring the cause of God was betrayed. 
On the other hand, the Protestants thought that they had sanc- 
tified the peace by robbing the Papists, says Voltaire. All that 
Spain had gained by this treaty was the hope of aid from the 
disbanded Germans, and the advantages of the civil war which 
rent the bosom of France. The Dutch increased their wealth 
and power by concluding a peace with Spain, and maintaining 
that already made with France. They became so powerful as to 
man 100 ships of the line in the war with England, and victory 
alternated between the great Van Tromp and the noted Blake. 
Such had been the state of exhaustion in France that, in 1 653, Louis 
found himself master of a kingdom shaken by repeated shocks, 
and whose daily declining marine could not muster 10 ships of 
50 guns. The immense resources of this splendid empire did 
but little under an administration so disordered. But, applying 
herself to free the government from its enemies, open or dis- 
guised, the queen now trampled on those who had so grievously 
insulted, and almost overthrown, the royal power. Having des- 
troyed her enemies by arms, and beaten them in diplomacy, 
while the rebellion of Conde yet annoyed the court, all the rest 
having resumed their duty, except some few who wanted too 
high a price for their loyalty, it became the business of the 
queen to effect the restoration of France to the important place 
she was destined to occupy in the world. 

It was evidently necessary to put down Conde — he must be a 
friend, or destroyed as an enemy : every facility was given for his 
coming in upon easy terms ; but he still insolently demanded the 
perpetual exile of Mazarin. As that was disdainfully refused, 
he plunged on in actual rebellion both against his king and 
his country, and it was unavoidable that he should be declared 
guilty of high treason in the name of the king. One or two 
acting upon noble principles, like the Counts de Coligni and 
Bouteville, having maintained friendly alliances with the prince 
in prosperity, would not now desert him in adversity. Conde 
commanded Spanish armies — he fought at the head of new 
forces ; and, with rapidity, took the towns of Chateau-Porcien, 
Rhetel (where Turenne, when commanding as a general of the 
King of France, had scarcely been able to save the shattered 
remains of the Spanish army), Monzon, and St. Menehould. 
Meanwhile Turenne had been sent off, and though Conde 
had taken the important town of Bar-le-duc, neither he nor 
his Spanish coadjutor knew that Turenne was approaching 



MISERY OF THE TROOPS. 61 

with forces greatly augmented, from Artois and Picardy, and by 
a large body of cavalry which had joined him on his march. Not 
aware of this, the prince's movements had been hazardous — he 
had taken Ligny, Void, and Commerci ; he had separated from 
Fuensaldana, the Spanish commander, which being unknown 
to Turenne, he stayed some days at St. Dizier. Proceeding to 
Stainville, he w T as re-inforced by 2,500 men, and learnt that Conde 
and the Duke of Lorraine were left without the Spaniards. He 
therefore speedily marched on, and Conde was compelled to a 
rapid retreat before the royalist general. The rebel prince now 
crossed the frontier ; having driven him out of France, Turenne 
spent some time in refreshing his army, which suffered dreadfully 
from want of money and food ; and that he did not meet with 
greater success is by d'Anquetil attributed to this. The town of 
Bar-le-duc, recently taken by Conde, was now laid siege to by 
Turenne. Mazarin just then arrived with re-inforcements, and by 
the frequent necessity of consulting him, much inconvenience 
ensued to the royal cause. The dreadful scenes, at which the 
reflecting mind sickens, resulting from these insane wars, took 
place during an unsually severe winter — a number of the poor 
soldiers were frozen to death on the march. The king's army 
proceeded to take several towns, and met with much success 
against the great general Conde. It is due to Mazarin to say that 
many suggestions he made were applauded by the other great 
general, Turenne — w r ho, as he could well afford it, is supposed to 
have thrown all imaginable credit on the cardinal, for the pur- 
pose of securing his return to Paris in triumph, and the effecting 
of a comprehensive peace to his distracted country. 

About this time took place the close of the public career of 
that remarkable character the Cardinal de Retz. As the part 
he played on the great stage of Parisian life, by the powerful 
influences of his almost matchless abilities, swayed the destinies 
of this great nation, I need scarcely make apology to my reader 
for presenting to him (with more circumstantiality than I find in 
most writers on this period — from Joly to Voltaire, and from 
Voltaire to the recent work of Mr. James) a few pages descrip- 
tive of the latter years of this " mighty troubler of the earth." 
He tells us, in his autobiography, that he w r ent after dinner, the 
succeeding day to the arrival of the court at Paris, to the queen, 
and that w T hen he had remained some time in the circle, she 
commanded him to follow her into her private cabinet. Anne 
treated him perfectly well, and told him she knew he had, as 
much as possible, by softening down matters, both in public and 
private, forwarded the return of the court, and that, knowing the 
difficulties he yet had to contend with relative to his political 
friends, she would help to disentangle him. He says that, spite 
of these fair speeches, the queen was more ill- disposed to him 

E 



62 THE QUEEN AND DE RETZ. 

than ever ; which he attributes to the fact of one of Gaston's 
servants having told her that, on the last morning of Mon- 
sieur's being at Paris, De Retz had offered his adhesion to the 
interests of the Duke of Orleans. However, he now answered 
the queen that the moment had at length arrived when he could 
serve the royal cause freely; that so long as the Duke of Orleans 
was a party, he could not follow his inclination, by reason of his 
long-standing engagements with him; but that, having wholly 
retired from public life, he was now placed where he had so 
long wished to be, and with joy which could scarcely be ex- 
pressed. Anne appeared quite satisfied, but was very press- 
ing in her enquiries about the Duke of Orleans, and was well 
pleased to learn that he really and truly had abandoned public 
life. She added he might still be useful, and, having volunteered 
his submission to the king, Anne thought it desirable to over- 
look the past offences of the Duke of Orleans, and to place him 
in that position which would at once gratify his royal highness, 
and strengthen the throne. Finding De Retz only answered in 
general terms, the queen's manner changed — she spoke more 
coldly — rather blushed, which with her was always a sign of anger. 
Recovering herself a little afterwards, she asked him if he felt 
always sure of Madame de Chevreuse ? He replied he was 
always upon the best terms with her. The queen answered 
somewhat brusquely, " I understand you — you think better of 
the Palatine (Anne de Gonzaga) — and not without reason." 
De Retz assured the queen that he had the highest estimation of 
Madame the Palatine, but that it could not exceed that which he 
entertained for herself. " I doubt it not," replied Anne, "adieu — 
all France within is waiting for me." 

De Retz assures us that M. Noirmoutier, to ingratiate him- 
self with the cardinal, whom he went to meet on the frontier, 
having possessed himself of an old letter, written by De Retz 
during the frenzy of the disturbances, to which he had put a false 
date — Mazarin himself doubted it. and from circumstances set 
it down as an imposture. Madame de Chevreuse, having been 
disappointed at the reception she had met with at court, was 
looking out for an opportunity of revenge. Laignes, who had 
been friendly with De Retz, resumed his former familiarity ; and 
whereas a distance, ending in a separation, had taken place 
between the Cardinal de Retz and the daughter of Mde. de 
Chevreuse, at her mother's instigation, his former mistress made 
overtures for reconciliation. He says that one evening she gave 
him a look — a most expressive and inviting glance — -from what 
really were the finest eyes he ever beheld. But he paid no 
attention to their expression, for which she never forgave him ; 
and Fouquet, who had by then taken the place of De Retz 
(aupres d'elle), told a gentleman that thenceforward she hated 



DEATH OF MDLLE. BE CHEVREUSE. 63 

the Cardinal de Retz as mucli as she had previously loved him. 
He declares solemnly he never gave her the least reason so to 
do. She was carried off by a malignant fever, he records, within 
24 hours, even before the physicians could ascertain the com- 
plaint. He went to see her for a moment ; her mother was at 
her bolster, and little was her sudden death expected. Joly says 
that her body became quite black, and so did every article of 
plate in the chamber, so that reports were not wanting of her 
having either herself taken poison, or of its having been ad- 
ministered by her mother. He says, the friends of De Retz 
were shocked at the indifference with which he received the 
tidings of her death, and it must be confessed that De Retz's 
own account of her illness and death was sufficiently heartless 
to justify this feeling. In giving some farther detail of the in- 
trigues by which he was finally destroyed, after speaking of the 
satisfaction of Ms conscience, he laments that, through life he 
has been too scrupulous — which, he says, never suits a man like 
himself, immersed in great affairs ! His former friends of the 
Fronde worked against him, and a certain number of people of 
quality, who had allied themselves formerly with his interests — 
such as Brissac, Bellievre, and Caumartin. Madame de Chev- 
reuse let fall some imprudent hints of what was plotting, which 
reached the ears of the last mentioned. Disliking the scheme, 
he waited on De Retz, and asked him if such were his views ? 
He was answered by a smile, and a wish to know if he thought 
De Retz was mad ? and he assured Caumartin he would remon- 
strate with both Laignes and Mde. de Chevreuse on their folly* 
this created a sensation. M. de Montresor, who made himself 
very officious just now, went about to misrepresent the inten- 
tions of De Retz ; his negociations were interrupted by Servien 
and l'Abbe Fouquet. He was implored by Madame de Lesdi- 
guieres to keep up his spirits, that the cardinal, who was careering 
with Turenne, did not like to return to Paris till De Retz was 
gone — that he had said he would make him a bridge of gold 
to walk over — so that De Retz, who was enormously in debt, 
thought to do the best he could for himself. 

Anne is understood to have gone great lengths to secure 
him as a friend and assistant to the cardinal ; but, whether from 
distrust on her part, or impracticability on that of De Retz, ow- 
ing to his inveterate prejudice against Mazarin, all efforts failed. 
It is said that his demands were ridiculously extravagant, and 
that, after having had 100,000 or 150,000 crowns offered him, 
which he refused, he showed symptoms of reviving the excite- 
ment to which his former influence was adequate. But, being 
watched by the court, who had long prepared an order for his 
arrest, under the idea that he privately corresponded with Conde*, 
than which, he says, though nothing could be more false, nothing 



64 DISSIMULATION OF LOUIS. 

was more readily believed, he resumed the old plan of fortifying 
his residence. This presented too formidable an obstacle to his 
arrest there, so that the king sent Saintot, lieutenant of the cere- 
monies, overnight to direct De Retz to attend a bed of justice, 
to hear the criminal declaration against the Prince of Conde. He 
respectfully assigned reasons why he should be excused — which 
irritated the queen, who viewed his conduct as conclusive of a 
traitorous correspondence with the rebel prince. Pradelle was 
commissioned to take De Retz, alive or dead. He was now on 
the qui vive, and strong in his entrenchments. 

The holy period of Advent had arrived — it fell to the lot of 
this successor of the apostles to preach at the more important 
churches of Paris, and he began at St. Germain, the parish of 
the king, who, with the queen, attended the service : he waited 
the next day upon them to thank them for their assistance at the 
devotions ! It was the strong, and really honest, advice of Mde. 
de Lesguidieres that he should return to court. She assured him 
of a private arrangement to gratify him, with respect to the 
price of his own patriotism, that he had thought greatly under- 
estimated ; and also of that which was due to his friends. De 
Retz was not one of those selfish beings who could use his par- 
tisans as rounds of the ladder he was climbing, and when he had 
attained the top, coldly forget those who had helped him up. 

He again made his appearance at the Louvre, on December 
19, 1652. On entering the anti-chamber of the queen, he was 
arrested by M. de Villequier, who conveyed him into an apart- 
ment. Dinner was set before him: — he was much vexed by 
being searched, as he says was the fashion with cutpurses: 
on him was found a letter from the king of England, request- 
ing him to use his influence with the pope for some pecu- 
niary assistance. After being detained three hours in the grand 
gallery of the Louvre, he was placed in one of the royal carriages, 
accompanied by Villequier and five or six officers of the body- 
guard, attended by two or three companies of horse. Great, and 
as it turned out, unnecessary, precautions had been taken : a 
feeling of regret, perhaps dismay, was manifest, but no popular 
tendency to disturbances. According to Mde. de Motteville, the 
young king had met De Retz on the stairs, before he was arrest- 
ed, and graciously asked him, if he had seen the queen ? Upon 
being informed he had not, the youthful deceiver politely told 
De Retz to follow him; and, whispering the captain of the 
guards that now was his time, the royal catch-poll retired — 
having thus honourably and regally performed the first known 
personal act of this splendid reign! Not yet fifteen, how can 
the selfishness and dissimulation of his after-life be matter 
of surprise ! Dr. Moore, on the French Revolution, remarks 
on the tendency of people to forget that maxim of holy writ, 



DE RETZ IMPRISONED AT VINCENNE9. ^5 

than whicn none is more verified by bitter experience—" Put 
not your trust in princes/' Spite of their numerous disap- 
pointments, the highest expectations are always formed by 
the populace of either the heir-apparent to the throne or of a 
young monarch ; and history scarcely mentions one, who died 
young, who is not said to have possessed all the virtues of 
humanity. This writer asks " of how many Marcelli have we 
heard, each more blooming than the other, whose wonderful 
spring of talents promised the most astonishing harvest ! Even 
the monster Caligula was, when a boy, the favourite of the Ro- 
man army ; and if, for the good of mankind, he had died then, 
the world would probably have been told, by some poet or his- 
torian, that he was just shown to the earth — ' Ostendent terris 
hunc tantum fata' — which being unworthy of him, he was soon 
carried to heaven ! If, however, among those born the imme- 
diate heirs of empire, so many are endowed in this extraordinary 
manner, whose virtues would add splendour to the throne, and 
diffuse happiness among their subjects, how infinitely is it to 
be lamented that they should be so early cut off, rather than 
their survivors !" 

Arriving between eight and nine o'clock at night at Vincennes, 
De Retz was shown into a room without either tapestry or bed, 
but at eleven o'clock was taken into another apartment with a 
bed, the furniture of which was chintz, which he found very un- 
suitable for winter. However, he slept well, which he attributed 
to the state of trouble into which he was thrown, as dejection 
always made him sleepy. The next morning he was allowed 
no fire to dress by ; this annoyed him the more, as it was con- 
tinued for 15 days, the guard appointed to attend him mean- 
while having that comfort allowed him. That worthy stole his 
linen, his clothes, and his shoes, so that he sometimes had to lie 
in bed eight or ten days for want of these necessaries. As this 
fellow worked at a little garden adjoining De Retz's dungeon, 
he asked him what he employed himself about ? And was not a 
little annoyed to learn that he was making an asparagus bed — 
which as it takes three years before it can be cut, and as this 
wretch came on purpose, and would be likely to stay no longer 
than the imprisoned cardinal, led him to expect a longer sojourn 
than his active habits approved. Although an indirect intimation, 
it served as effectually to lead the captive to a deduction from 
the premises, as was the old lady enlightened when, after rating 
her grandson, nobody else bnt the cat being present, the irreve- 
rent boy muttered, " I know what I wish !" " What's that?" 
said the grandame. " Why I wish one of us three was dead. 
I don't mean myself, and I don't mean you, pussey."- The 
goaler's attendant was a wag in his way — De Retz says he was 
daily worried by at least a score of his wicked pleasantries. 

E . i 



66 ASTROLOGICAL PREDICTIONS. 

The clergy of Paris now began to stir, and waited in a body 
on the king and queen to require the causes of his imprison- 
ment, when they kindly assured them that it was only meant for 
De Retz's own good ! His friends, Caumartin and D'Hacqueville 
continued every attempt to serve him : the chapter of N otre-Dame 
daily had an anthem chanted expressly for his liberation : these 
attentions caused the court to soften the rigours of his con- 
finement. They now sent a physician of repute to see him, 
named Vacherot, who informed him that his faithful friend Cau- 
martin had charged him with a message to the effect that Goiset, 
a barrister, who believed in, and practised, astrology, having 
made his calulations, had ascertained that De Retz would re- 
gain his liberty in March, but that it would be imperfect, nor 
would he arrive at its full restoration till August. This lite- 
rally came to pass as foretold. It appears De Retz attached 
some importance to it; because Goiset several years before had 
made a similar prediction relative to the escape of the Duke of 
Beaufort, and the event in that matter in all respects agreed 
with the prophecy. In the case of the Duke of Beaufort, the 
Abbe de Marivauxhad also made astrological calculations, and, 
arriving at the same conclusion, advertised Mazarin, that he might 
double his precautions. Mazarin laughed at his credulity, and 
took no notice. The abbe having publicly announced his convic- 
tion — the day when it was to be verified he was at court, and, 
being rallied by some of his friends on its failure, he coolly told 
them to wait a little, as four hours must elapse before it could 
be called a failure. As much was said about this, at length 
within two or three hours, Mazarin sent off orders to De la Ramee 
to be especially on his guard, without going into detail. But De 
la Ramee forgot to say so to Vaugrimant, who had charge of 
Beaufort, and the latter succeeded in his plan of escape ; thus 
completely verifying these astrological predictions. 

For the 15 months during which his imprisonment lasted, 
De Retz devoted the days, and often a great part of the nights, 
to resume his studies of Latin ; he now also revived his Greek. 
Amidst other consolations, he composed the " Consolation of 
Theology ;" therein proving, according to that of St. Paul, that 
every prisoner ought to endeavour to be " vinctus in Christo." 
He wrote several other pieces, and sought relaxation in keeping 
rabbits ; in one of the towers he also had turtle-doves and pi- 
geons. A secret mode of communication having unexpectedly 
been opened through the kindness of Madame de Pommereux, 
and his constant friends Caumartin and D'Hacqueville, they cor- 
responded twice a week ; one or two unsuccessful enterprises for 
his escape resulted, which failing, he began again to try what 
could be done by ecclesiastical influence. Mazarin had now 
returned to Paris, and sent Pradelle with a fulsome message to 



DE RETZ REMOVED TO NANTES. 67 

the prisoner, with the assurances of his best wishes and humble 
services, &c, : this is to be explained, on account of the stir which 
was now making at Rome, and a wish to make terms with De 
Retz to abandon the coadjutorship. By the unwearied efforts of 
the chapter of Notre- Dame, Bragelonne, a monk, who had been 
his companion at college, and whom he had appointed a prebend, 
was assigned as his companion. But this gentleman, although 
devotedly attached to the prisoner, sunk into a profound melan- 
choly, and in a quotidian fever which supervened, during one of 
the fits, cut his throat. His uncle the archbishop of Paris now 
died, and his friend Caumartin took possession of the see for- 
mally in the name of De Retz. Disquiet began — the people 
demanded their archbishop — the clergy were indignant — a work 
was published, stating that it was unavoidable to shut up all the 
churches ; Mazarin began to fear, and then had recourse to his 
usual refuge — negociation. The stringency of his confinement 
was abated ; Pradelle endeavoured to persuade De Retz of the 
great things which were going to be done by the court, &c. : 
from his faithful friends, he had repeated cautions to keep as 
quiet and guarded as possible. Noailles was sent by the young 
king with a long and flattering message ; to this De Retz re- 
plied he hoped the king would pardon his returning a written 
answer, which he sent — to the purport of never consenting to give 
up the archbishopric of Paris. His friends contrived to let him 
know that the president Bellievre was to be sent next day farther 
to tempt him — so that he was the better prepared to receive 
him. After a long discussion, during which he behaved in the 
most friendly way to De Retz, the president told him his fears : 
though Mazarin was not a bloody man, he doubted Noailles 
and his secret instructions from the queen and king. 

De Retz now came into terms, and was removed to Nantes, 
where he was under the surveillance of the Marshal de Meille- 
raie. He soon created a sensation, giving elegant soirees ; at one 
of which Madame de Sevigne brought her daughter, — between 
whom and De Retz an affaire du cceur soon arose. The pope 
meanwhile refused acquiescence in the arrangement whereby he 
would have vacated the archiepiscopal see, — which greatly per- 
plexed him. Weary of imprisonment, although now in so much 
more agreeable a form, he began to contemplate effecting his 
escape from the castle in which De Meilleraie held him. It was 
August, when, walking on one of the bastions, he noticed that 
the sea did not come up quite so far — probably from the drought 
of the season — thus leaving a little dry piece of ground between 
it and the wall. To this at the apppointed time he descended, 
Saturday, August 8, 1653, at five o'clock in the evening, while 
his faithful valet-de-chambre amused the sentinels, and gave 
them wine to drink. Clinging to his rope, he let himself down 



68 ESCAPE FROM PRISON* 

40 feet; while descending, one of the sentinels saw him, hut 
he afterwards declared he thought the marshal was privy to the 
attempt ; and two pages, who were bathing, called out — but they 
appear not to have been heard. Four friends had five horses 
there, as if to bathe them on the sands ; De Retz nimbly jumped 
on one, and was soon on the road to Paris, which city he was 
to have reached on the following Wednesday. Arrived near 
Mauve, where Brissac and Sevigne were at the edge of the river, 
to have a boat ready to take him over, one La Ralde, whom 
Brissac had in his service, now proposed to gallop on, that the 
guards might not have shut the gates through which they 
must necessarily pass. As they were all well mounted, they 
pushed rapidly on ; the guards would have taken no notice of 
them, but Boisguerin, one of the gentlemen of the party, fear- 
ing an attempt at detention, called out that each should carry a 
loaded pistol in his hand ; and De Retz says he held his so as 
effectually to prevent his bridle being seized by the guard nearest 
to him. (In the memoirs of Joly, it is fair to say the conduct 
of De Retz is not so courageously represented as his own ac- 
counts, in several cases.) By accident the pistol of De Retz 
went off, and the report so startled his horse that he suddenly 
and fearfully plunged, and threw the cardinal on his left shoul- 
der against a post. In indescribable pain, one of his attendants 
raised him, but he was so hurt he could scarcely proceed — how- 
ever he did go on, and reached the boat, in which were his two 
friends Brissac and Sevigne. As soon as he stepped into it, he 
fainted away ; on reaching the opposite bank he attempted to 
mount a fresh horse, but was quite unable. Brissac hid him 
in a hay- cock, where, leaving him in the care of some of his 
gentlemen, Joly and the rest proceeded to Paris to assemble his 
friends, and take the necessary measures. 

One of his attached attendants, M. Paris, a doctor of Na- 
varre, who had given the agreed signal with his hat to four gen- 
tlemen to serve him on this occasion, was overtaken at the bank 
of the river by Coulon, squire to the marshal, who took him, 
after several blows. Paris, who always had his wits about him, 
said to the squire " I shall inform the marshal that you amused 
yourself with beating a defenceless priest, as you were afraid to 
take the cardinal, who is provided with good pistols at his hol- 
sters ! " Coulon seemed struck, and asked where the cardinal 
was ? " Don't you see him ? " said Paris, directing his attention 
to some distant object. Coulon flew after this person on a jaded 
horse, whom Paris well knew to be Beauchesne, and rushed to- 
wards him, with a pistol in his hand. Beauchesne was cool, and, 
seeing a boat a few paces off, jumped into it in time : holding a 
pistol to the head of the ferryman, he made him at once tow him 
over, and thus saved himself and De Retz, as, there being no 



DE RETZ IN A HAY-COCK. 69 

other near ferry, his pursuers were compelled to go lower down 
the river, which afforded him and his friends time. 

His shoulder battered and put out of joint, De Retz remained 
in a wretched condition, hidden in his refuge, the haycock ; he 
fell into a state of fever, that was greatly augmented by the fer- 
mentation of the hay. Parched with thirst and close by the river, 
he dared not drink; as, if he and Montel had left their retreat, 
they had nobody to tuck them up again, whereby attention might 
have been directed to their hiding-place — whence they plainly 
heard the horsemen on the right and left, and could distinguish 
the voice of Coulon. Suffering dreadfully from pain and thirst, 
which latter he describes, as all others have done who have been 
called to that trial, to be inconceivably horrible, he lay perdue 
till two hours after midnight. Through the kind consideration 
of his friend Brissac, a gentleman of consequence in that part 
of the country, named Offange, when he had ascertained that 
the pursuers were all gone, came, and withdrew the cardinal from 
the hay, had him placed on a farmer's dung-cart, which was 
drawn by two peasants; to avoid suspicion, he was still enve- 
loped in the hay. Here, in about seven or eight hours, he was 
joined by Brissac with 15 or 20 horsemen, who conveyed him to 
Beaupreau, where he was entertained one night by the Abbe de 
Belebat : and Brissac, being esteemed by all the neighbourhood, 
placed his friend in many different houses in the course of his 
stay there, to throw the court's pursuers off their scent. At 
length his friends mustered a body, aided and accompanied by his 
relative M. de Retz, and made for Machecoul, which is within 
the district of the family of De Retz. They had to pass close by 
Nantes, whence some of the marshal's guard made a sortie, but 
they were vigorously repulsed, and at length succeeded in reach- 
ing Machecoul, where they were perfectly safe. He was attended 
by a surgeon at the house of M. de Retz; but, although he suf- 
fered the greatest pain, he was so uncomfortable with his rela- 
tives that a plan was concocted to decamp to Belle-isle. It was 
attended with the greatest difficulties, on account of the troops 
of the marshal, and even when at sea they were pursued by a 
vessel, which they only escaped by out- sailing. 

Arrived safely here, they were not to enjoy repose: and they 
settled Brissac and De Sevigne should now leave the party, and 
that De Retz, two of his gentlemen, and a valet-de-chambre, lent 
to him by his brother, with Joly, should embark in a fishing boat 
loaded with pilchards. This indeed was the more necessary as 
they were almost destitute of funds; for, though the brother of De 
Retz had sent them money, it had been intercepted by the coast- 
guard. So that, disguised in the wretched clothes of old soldiers, 
and others, which were with difficulty procured, they embarked 
on board this fishing smack, and, sailing all night, had a rough 



70 FRESH DANGERS. 

time of it. In the morning it became calm, when, as they had the 
misfortune to drop the mariner's compass into the sea, the fisher- 
men, being ignorant and frightened, could only take such a course 
as they were compelled by the pursuit of a ship which followed 
them ; this was soon discovered to be a Turk, and from Sale. 
She trimmed her sails, towards evening, as if afraid of being 
too near the coast, and as little birds came and pitched on 
their mast, it was hoped the vessel neared the land — but what 
country? for, under the circumstances, France was as bad as 
Turkey. Remaining all day in this uncertainty, and all the 
next day, and seeing a vessel from which they would procure in- 
formation, on approaching it for that purpose, all the satisfaction 
gained was three volleys of cannon. The clouds threatened, 
and seeing a shalop (a large boat) they made for it, and, speak- 
ing in French and Italian, to three men therein, found themselves 
not understood; but one of the three called out San Sebastien! 
The party of De Retz exhibited some money, and replied San 
Sebastien, which the strangers understood, and one of them 
got into the boat of the fugitives, and conducted the wanderers 
safely to that port 

A fresh danger followed them here; from want of a charter- 
party, and their wretched clothes, the guards were inclined to 
arrest them. De Retz told them they were well known to the 
Baron de Vateville, the Spanish commander in Guipuscoa. 
Upon which the friends were taken care of, and Joly was led to 
that commander, who waited upon De Retz : he was suspi- 
cious at first, but at last one of his secretaries was able to iden- 
tify the cardinal, and showed him every attention. From bruises, 
dislocation, and, above all, the fatigue and dangers of his escape, 
he now kept his bed for three weeks. After his recovery, at the 
instance of his friends, who advised him to go to Rome as the 
natural asylum of a cardinal, the pope being the protector of 
a persecuted bishop, he decided on that course. The Spaniards 
would have been glad for him to adopt another line of eon- 
duct, and incited him by enormous promises, to proceed to 
Flanders and join Conde; though he refused, the Spanish govern- 
ment behaved very well to him, in offering him a large sum of 
money unconditionally. De Retz says, he refused it, contenting 
himself with borrowing 400 pistoles from M. de Vateville for 
linen, clothes, and other necessaries, which sum, he declares, he 
afterwards returned. He proceeded to Valencia, to embark at 
Vivaros, whenca he was promised to be conveyed in a frigate by 
command of Don John of Austria, who was at Barcelona. He 
arrived in one of the royal litters, having passed through Navarre. 
Tudelle, near Pampeluna, he found in a riot, on account of 
some interference with the privileges of the people connected 
with hunting. On his reaching the hotel, he had the unspeakable 



REMARKABLE CREDULITY. 7l 

comfort of being taken for a French spy by the authorities, who 
affected to believe that he had been at the bottom of this fer- 
mentation, of which he only then first knew. With difficulty 
he escaped between the two excited parties — being kept a pri- 
soner all night, the hotel surrounded with the howls of these 
defenders of privilege. The next day, when all was explained, 
the viceroy sent De Retz on, escorted by 50 troopers mounted on 
donkeys, who thus delivered him at Cortes. He proceeded to 
Sarragossa, always travelling under the name of the Marquis of 
St. Florent. Going to see Nuestra Senora del Pilar, one of the 
most celebrated sanctuaries of Spain, De Retz was mistaken for 
Charles II. of England, and he was in consequence followed by 
an immense concourse of ladies. Here he was amused by being 
shown a man whose office was to light the almost innumerable 
lamps there; and was gravely told, by the dean and chapter, 
that for seven years this man had been there with only one leg — 
that all the city knew him — that at least 20,000 could attest the 
miracle ! He had recovered his leg by rubbing over the stump 
with the oil which was used in the lamps of this sanctuary ! This 
miraculous cure (only to be equalled by those effected by 
Morison's pills!) was annually celebrated by a countless throng, 
whom De Retz met coming into Sarragossa, actually covering 
all the main roads, from the equipages of the quality to the 
humblest pedestrians. 

He was struck with Arragon, as not only one of the most 
healthy spots, but as the finest garden in the world — the main 
roads being formed into groves by pomegranate, lemon, and 
orange trees; the country irrigated by the finest navigable 
rivers, and the whole district being enamelled with myriads of 
beautiful flowers, which delight by their odoriferous scent. 
Arriving the next day at Vivaros, he was waited on by the com- 
mander of the ships (an officer corresponding with our admiral), 
who delivered a letter to him from John of Austria, as hand- 
some as any he ever received, giving him his choice of a galley 
or a frigate belonging to Dunkirk, which mounted 36 guns ; 
however, he preferred the galley. Just as he was on the point 
of embarking, he received a very handsome present from the 
viceroy of Valencia, which De Retz consented to accept, and dis- 
tributed it among those who had befriended him during his stay 
in Spain, and those who had been at expenses on his account. 
Embarking in the evening, they next day reached Majorca, at 
which place quarantine was performed, as the plague had been 
at Arragon — but in his case he received every accommodation 
and kindness. The viceroy attended De Retz to the cathedral with 
100 or 120 carriages filled with the nobility, where all that onr 
cardinal mentions as having attracted his regards is that he saw 
30 or 40 ladies of quality of surpassing beauty and that there 



72 DELIGHTFUL RECREATIONS. 

are no ugly ones in the island; the delicacy of their appearance 
is very striking, being of the tints of lilies and roses— even the 
common working-people, he says, are also of this description ; 
their head-dress he thought particularly pretty. 

He was entertained by the viceroy at a magnificent dinner, 
under a superb tent of brocade of gold, which he had caused to 
be erected by the sea- side. To this entertainment the cardinal 
was taken, after attending a concert by a number of girls at a con- 
vent, whose beauty seems to have pleased him as much as that of 
the ladies of the court : they chanted at the grate to the honour of 
their saint, with words and air as gallant and more impassioned 
than the songs of Lambert (the love-poet of the day). Walking 
in the evening to the environs of the city, which are indescri- 
bably beautiful, they proceeded to the viceroy's lady — she formed 
an exception to the rule, and was more ugly than a demon. Ele- 
vated on a dais, and set off with precious stones, she became 
an excellent foil to 60 ladies who surrounded her, as they were 
the handsomest of the city. He was attended by 50 wax candles 
to his galley, the guns of the battery firing, and amidst the sound 
of countless hautboys and trumpets. Thus occupied, the three 
days of his quarantine passed away. On the fourth, taking leave 
of his kind entertainers, De Retz again set sail, and in 12 hours 
arrived safely at Port-Mahon, the finest port of the Mediterra- 
nean. It has an entrance so narrow as to be a kind of turnpike- 
gate, and, enlarging suddenly, it forms a very oblong basin. 
Surrounded by elevated mountains, bearing very lofty trees, and 
down the slopes of the hills abundant rivulets running, a thousand 
beautiful varieties are presented to the senses that (let us mark 
the thoroughly French idea), are more surprising than those of 
the opera ! This truly valuable and interesting port of Minorca 
affords secure anchorage to the largest ships, that are here sup- 
plied with all sorts of stores. They were detained four days, 
during which a young man, Don Fernand Carillo, a person of 
quality, behaved in the most obliging manner; entertaining 
them with hunting, fishing, and all the amusements of this 
lovely island. 

Our voyagers again took ship for the gulf of Lyons. It is a 
very dangerous passage in winter ; but they passed happily along 
this perilous coast. Alarmed by six galleys, they anchored at 
Porto-Conde, then under the command of M. de Guise; and the 
fortress of Saint Boniface saluted them with several guns. They 
now spied a Turk, and agreed to give chase to her — but, getting 
too near the shore, were grounded: all cried out " Misericorde ! " 
The galley's crew rushed to the edge, and would have jumped 
into the sea, but the commander, who was in the cabin playing 
at piquet with Joly, immediately came up and restored order ; 
he then sent De Retz with a proper escort on shore — the water 



DE RETZ'S CAREER CLOSES. 73 

was only two or three feet deep — while the ship was examined. 
It is remarkable that the ship was not hurt ; in two hours' time 
he was taken back in a felucca ; they overtook the Turkish vessel, 
and found her to be in the hands of Genoese who had captured 
her. Learning that De Guise was sailing about in search of 
them, the fugitives were compelled to put out to sea, and, a ter- 
rible storm arising, they were all night exposed to the greatest 
danger. The pilot said it was the worst he had ever known during 
50 years ; and, as such are the times when our gay neighbours 
say their prayers and confess, ■' tout le monde,' says De Retz, 
were thus occupied, except Don Fernand Carillo — who was of 
" angelical piety " notwithstanding. He whispered De Retz, " I 
know well enough that all these confessions, produced by fear 
alone, go for nothing I" The Spanish officers put on their orna- 
ments, that there might be no doubt of their dying as servants of 
their king, and the more to honour him. 

Amidst scenes of terror, hypocrisy, and such characteristics 
as are brought out in like awful circumstances, a Sicilian 
priest on board was preaching by the mast, and assured them 
that St. Francis had just appeared to him, declaring that they 
should not perish. In point of fact this prophecy was no 
doubt made after the violence of the storm had abated, that 
now became less and less, till they reached Porto -Ferraro; which 
place. De Retz celebrates both for its wonderful artificial strength 
and natural beauties. At Piambino he took leave of his Spanish 
friends, after handsomely complimenting officers and ship's-crew 
— parting with all but nine pistoles, to carry him on to Florence. 
De Retz speaks most honourably of their kindness, nor did they 
part without abundance of tears. And here, and not till then, 
may the adventures of this fugitive cardinal be said to termi- 
nate. He soon travelled to Rome, where he was most kindly 
received by the pope ; but that pontiff died within six weeks, 
before the affairs of De Retz could be arranged — to his great 
chagrin. After six years of exile, during which he abandoned 
the profligacy that had disgraced his more youthful days, he 
was permitted to return to Paris. De Retz had disappeared for 
ever from the political stage ; and, on his again coming to the 
scenes of his memorable turbulence, he endeavoured by exem- 
plary conduct to atone for his former sins. Voltaire says he was 
a Cataline in his youth, and an Atticus in his old age. He died 
in 1679, aged 66. Tempted by the interesting nature of his 
adventures, as he will no more come before us, I have thought 
it would gratify my reader to follow this extraordinary character 
to the termination of his career, at the expense of a few pages, 
and an interruption of chronology. 

Meanwhile, Vieuville had been appointed superintendant of 
finance, but his sudden death caused that important office to be 



74 PARTIES AT BORDEAUX. 

filled by Nicholas Fouquet, at the instance of his brother the 
Abbe Fouquet — he was aided by Servien. Mazarin now entered 
Paris in triumph. Louis went out to meet him, and, after pub- 
licly honouring the cardinal, brought him back in his own 
carriage into that city — whence, amidst execrations, he had twice 
fled for his very life — once more to hear the enthusiastic ac- 
clamations of this fickle people ! Apartments were assigned 
him at the Louvre — the base adulation of the great out-he- 
roded Herod; — and such was the literal crowding to bow 
before the powerful minister that serious fears were entertained 
some of the nobility would be bodily injured by the press. 
One ecclesiastic bowed down so low before him that it was 
almost impossible to raise him again, whether from some 
muscular action, or from some other anatomical cause. 

The able minister, schooled by trials, knew how to avail him- 
self of his advantages : he persecuted none of those who had 
so basely laboured to destroy him ; and, though he might have 
effected the execution of Croissy Fouquet, he only stipulated he 
should retire to Italy, and thus saved him. Mazarin's attention 
was immediately directed to the troubles of Guienne ; and, 
adopting his old system of setting up the selfishness of one 
party to work the ruin of another, he increased the confusion 
of the various insurgent factions, by holding out hopes to all. 
One of these parties called the " Ormee," fell into every 
imaginable brutality at Bordeaux. They were headed by a 
kind of Jack Cade, called Duretete (from the supposed inflex- 
ibility of his sense of justice). To them was opposed a party 
of respectables called the " Chapeau Rouge :" between these 
rival factions frequent and violent collisions took place. Ma- 
zarin sent spies into the town, and an army under the famous 
D'Estrades was directed to Bordeaux. In the midst' of these 
great events, as a kind of under current, yet bearing upon 
the state of public matters, it is curious to trace the intrigues 
he had recourse to for the aggrandisement of his nieces. 
Conti had now been appointed by Conde to command Bor- 
deaux ; himself incompetent for the situation, matters were 
virtually conducted by the Abbe Sarasin and Conti's mistress, 
a woman of notoriety in Bordeaux. The army of the Duke 
of Candale was inadequate to the investiture of the capital 
of Guienne, and D'Estrades, who actually commanded, though 
the feeble Duke of Vendome nominally led, was trying to join 
Candale at Bourg. While this was the -posture of affairs, Maza- 
rin sent Perefixe, the Bishop of "Rhodes (afterwards Archbishop 
of Paris), to communicate with the Abbe Sarasin, on the return 
of Conti to his allegiance. We learn from the memoirs of Ar- 
tagnan that he had been engaged by this overseer of the flock, 
Perefixe, to act as a go-between : his beard was suffered to 



PEACE IN THE SOUTH. 75 

grow, and the bishop provided him with the disguise of a her- 
mit, in which he gained access to the town, where he wormed 
himself into an intimacy, even of a disgraceful nature, with 
Conti's mistress. This gave him opportunities to mislead the 
" Ormee " with bad advice and false news. 

But his main business was to lead Conti to a marriage 
with Mazarin's niece : a portrait of her was thrown in his way, 
but she was not sufficiently beautiful to captivate this weak and 
profligate prince, They procured another most flattering like- 
ness, and this Conti's mistress took care to show him, at the 
same time extolling her virtues, which praise she was enti- 
tled to. Conti was caught, but feared his brother Conde. The 
scheme was for the time frustrated by the disguised hermit 
being detected by Conti in circumstances that left no doubt of 
the double game this courtezan was playing ; so that Artagnan 
was dismissed to the Due de Candale, under the derision of all. 
The result of these intrigues was that ail were pardoned who 
had rebelled in Guienne ; the regiments of Conde, with his wife 
and son, some principal officers, domestics and troops, should 
join the prince at Stenay, to the amount of 2,500 ; and that 
Mde. de Longueville and Conti should be allowed to retire. On 
the arrival of this news at Paris, while joy was universal, Maza- 
rin did not quite relish so sweeping an amnesty, nor could he be 
prevailed upon to agree to spare Duretete and four of his chief 
abettors. Gourville, who was the ambassador, felt the difficul y 
of his position, that was only got over by his being furnished 
with two treaties — he was to try one, to secure the execution of 
Duretete, &c. ; and, if that would not go down, he was to bring 
out the one which would : — this was so like Mazarin ! How- 
ever, the citizens were tired of war and its horrors, and quietly 
submitted — duretete was cut off, and stuck on a post in the 
midst of the camp; thus the south of France was reduced to 
complete obedience to Louis XIV. Under the Duke of Guise, 
vigorous attempts to strengthen French influence in the Neapo- 
litan dominions proved disastrous ; and the duke himself was at 
length taken prisoner by the Spaniards, who seriously contem- 
plated putting him to death, for having headed insurgent sub- 
jects of the king of Spain. But milder measures, under the 
great minister Don Louis de Haro, spared his life, and enlarged 
his comforts in imprisonment ; the sum total of these efforts, 
to increase the benefits of the Neapolitan connexion, having 
ended in the sacrifice of 18,000 natives! 

Mazarin sent out another fleet to revive French influence in 
Naples, but it was as ineffectual as the foregoing melancholy ef- 
fort ; and the cardinal had too much business upon his hands to 
appropriate farther the resources of France to effect this deside- 
ratum. Conde was dissatisfied with the Spaniards, the supplies of 

f 2 



76 CLOSE OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

men and money were inadequate to his necessities, and to their 
engagements with him ; but, like too many of the rest of us, 
Don Louis de Haro, talented and just though he was, could not 
get the needful. The success of the great French commander 
was not commensurate with his abilities, many of his friends 
made terms with the court — La Rochefoucault was one. 

Gourviile, after his long, and apparently firm, attachment, 
we have incidentally witnessed in the confidence of Mazarin, 
and even acting as the ministerial agent throughout those ne- 
gotiations which ended in the peace of Bordeaux. All eyes 
were upon Conde, as an extraordinary general; but men could 
not forget the unusually haughty selfishness which had placed 
him in his present perilous and anomalous position. Turenne, 
we have seen, had rapidly taken Rhetel, which led Conde and 
the archduke to hurry their armies towards Picardy. Just then, 
Turenne was so situate that he could only bring 12,000 men 
against 27,000. He was here joined by Mazarin and Louis him- 
self. A council, was held, and it was determined that Turenne 
should follow the enemy, so placing his army as to avoid a 
battle, and yet prevent the separation of Conde and the arch- 
duke. He was not to let them rest, nor commence any siege. 
Mazarin, meanwhile, was busy at his old work, making over- 
tures and promises to Conde; these the rebel prince naively 
answered by saying that, as the cardinal's promises were never 
performed but for his own convenience, he thought it much 
better not to trust to them. He now suddenly marched off for 
Rocroi, which did not long hold out. As compensation, Turenne 
took Monzon, and, the royal army being now strengthened, St. 
Menehould was re-invested, and soon capitulated. The balance 
was in favour of Louis, and the success was attributed to the 
extraordinary talents of Turenne ; to whose skill a memorable 
testimony is extant by the Duke of York (James II.), then 
serving under him. At this termination of the campaign, Conde 
retired to Brussels, there to strengthen his position by fresh 
arrangements with the Duke of Lorraine, and the Spanish go- 
vernment; but as disputes arose, it was decided to arrest the 
duke and set up his brother Francis in his place. The Count 
of Harcourt had rebelled against Louis XIV., and, with an army 
at his command, had over-run the banks of the Rhine, and har- 
rassed the royalists by the necessity of sending an army under 
La Ferte after him: favourable proposals induced Harcourt to 
return to his allegiance. 

The king was now crowned, June 7, 1654. Immediately 
Turenne attacked Stenay; for, as Conde had lost Bellegarde, 
Stenay was the only important place yet to be reduced. It was 
besieged — but news was unexpectedly brought of Arras being 
attacked bv 32,000 Spaniards. Conde having thought by this 



EXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT. 77 

stroke to draw the French off from Stenay ; but, although that 
was the first idea of Mazarin, Turenne insisted on continuing 
the siege of Stenay. Mazarin and Louis were present, and 
it is said the youthful king made some judicious and useful 
suggestions. Stenay was forced to capitulate on the 6th of Au- 
gust: the royal army then marched away for Arras, to strengthen 
the forces which were watching the army of Conde, who wanted 
to intercept them, but the terror of Turenne's name caused the 
Spaniards obstinately to refuse. He commenced by cutting off 
Conde's supplies. Turenne and the Duke of York had one 
night gone to visit the out-lying posts of the army, when they 
perceived a sudden and extraordinary distant light. Next day 
they learned that a whole regiment of the enemy's cavalry, each 
soldier carrying a sack of powder behind him, and 80 horses 
loaded with hand-grenades, had been all Mown up together! The 
awful catastrophe arose from a quarrel between the commanding 
officer and one of the men, who having a lighted pipe in his 
mouth, the officer gently took it from, him and threw it to the 
ground. In drunken bravery, the soldier fired his pistol at his 
officer — the bag of powder behind him ignited, and the soldiers 
being close together, the fire ran fearfully and fatally along the 
line, and the whole, except the officer, met with their deaths in 
this dreadful manner ! 

During the manoeuvres which called forth the greatest mili- 
tary skill before Arras, one anecdote, honourable alike to both 
Conde and Turenne, must not be omitted. Each of these great 
commanders had enough to do to direct their generals, whose 
incompetency or perverseness too often baffled their superior 
tact. Conde was fettered by the slow Spaniard. And on one 
occasion when great benefits would have resulted from Turenne's 
general, La Ferte, keeping his ground on a height where his 
superior had ordered seven pieces of cannon to be kept in play, 
La Ferte, thinking he could do better, opened a fire on the 
squadrons of Conde. Turenne anxiously watched to see whether 
or not any infantry would come up to support Conde: seeing 
that none did, and that the cavalry did not advance, he said to 
those around him, " Conde himself must be there — he alone 
would have self-confidence enough to push his enemy with horse 
only ! " At the self-same time Conde was gazing at Turenne's 
position, and observed, to his staff, " There, for certain, is 
Turenne : anybody else would have come down from the hill 
to charge me, and would have been beaten ! " Mr. James here 
ably remarks that it is thus genius appreciates genius. Tu- 
renne knew too well the power of Conde to intercept his 
retreat ; but the garrison thought it an opportunity not to be 
lost, and rashly sent out a large body of cavalry to harass the 
prince, as he passed the river ; but Conde wheeled upon them, 



73 INSOLENCE OF LOUIS. 

and almost cut them to pieces before Marsin could come up to 
cover their retreat. The archduke and the Spanish commander 
fled to Douay with the shattered remains of their armies — 
Conde and his division alone saved their wagons — all the rest 
lost every thing. His extraordinary genius blazed forth in con- 
ducting this celebrated retreat. The king of Spain, in his let- 
ter to him after this engagement, said, " I have been informed 
that every thing was lost, and that you have recovered every 
thing." This relief of Arras, the forcing of the lines, and the 
defeat of the archduke, crowned Turenne also with glory. In 
the official letter, written in the king's name, the whole success 
is attributed to Mazarin, nor was even the name of Turenne 
mentioned ! In the first place, the cardinal was several leagues 
off; but, as he had attended on one or two occasions the coun- 
cils of war — and probably for the same reason which Turenne 
before allowed to operate — he cheerfully let Mazarin's weakness 
receive that gratification which formed the derision of Europe. 
Mazarin's ambition was now also farther gratified by the 
crowning of his anxious intrigues with success, in the marriage 
of his niece Anna Maria with the Prince de Conti; who, in con- 
sequence, had every imaginable honour showered down upon 
him. He was also put at the head of the French army in Cata- 
lonia, where he might have been called to measure swords with 
his more celebrated brother, Conde. 

A trait may here be mentioned of Louis XIV., which indi- 
cated what might be expected from him in future years. Some 
offensive fiscal measure of Mazarin's having met with considera- 
ble, though not successful, opposition in parliament, it was rapidly 
verified by the king, who immediately left, to engage in hunting 
at Vincennes. After his departure, the refractory sought to ex- 
amine the king's decree, which was too much like former pro- 
ceedings for the cardinal to pass over. He sent after Louis, 
and, at his instance, the king, in his hunting boots, his horse- 
whip in his hand, attended by his household officers similarly 
accoutred, rudely entered the house. He told them of their 
former offences — forbidding the president to permit such irre- 
gularities as contesting his will, and ordered them at once to 
register his edicts : after which despotic address, he indignantly 
left them to chew the cud of their humiliation. What an affront 
this must have been to that assembly we can form some idea 
of when we call to mind that, 150 years afterwards, it was 
assigned as one reason of declaring war against England, that 
our ambassador, Lord Whitworth, insulted Napoleon by wear- 
ing boots at his levee, so tenacious have our neighbours ever 
been !) Nor was public spirit wholly defunct ; some show 
of opposition was quashed by the arrival of the great Tu- 
renne, who pointed out the danger of the recurrence of civil 



SPIRIT OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 79 

war, and so soothed their irritation. Meanwhile the youth of 
Louis was ripening into manhood, and Mazarin craftily piloted 
him, even in his pleasures ; and, throwing his attractive and 
beautiful niece Olympia in the youthful monarch's way, a pas- 
sion sprang up between them, which he did all in his power to 
foster. Madame de Motteville says, the ambition of this wily 
churchman, having overcome so many obstacles, at last pitched 
on the throne of France for his niece ; and that, by way of 
sounding Anne of Austria, he watched an opportunity, as it 
were incidentally, to introduce the subject to her, and expressed 
his fears that the king's affection would hurry him on to marry 
his niece. But the pride of the Austrian, notwithstanding her 
attachment to Mazarin, was roused, and she quickly answered, 
" If the king be capable of committing so dishonourable an 
action, I will put myself and my second son at the head of the 
whole nation — against you and the king !" He never forgave 
her, but was oily enough to agree with her prudential views, and 
assume the honour of preventing the rashness of Louis ! 

The war between France and Spain continued — though not 
with vigour on either side. Europe at this period presented the 
aspect of a total want of greatness in the personal character of 
any reigning king: but Christina, Queen of Sweden governed with 
dignity. Charles II. was at this time a profligate vagabond in 
France with his mother and brother ;— pity it is that any of that 
wretched race should ever have left its shores ! England pre- 
sented the proud spectacle of dignity and power wielded by an 
individual of middle rank, who raised his country by a series of 
acts that shed a halo of glory around his name, at which the 
world trembled. He knew how far to stretch power, he re- 
spected privileges — at least those of citizens; he neither burdened 
the people by taxes, nor offended them by the vain display of 
pomp and pageantry ; he was no sensualist, nor addicted to the 
accumulation of riches ; in him justice met with an inflexible 
patron, neither courting high nor low — rich nor poor. Men 
point with triumph to the laws passed during the protectorate — 
so unlike other reigns that I will never covet the appropriation of 
the term. No, let the word and the deeds of that remarkable 
epoch stand out in bold relief. See how the eyes of Europe 
were then upon us — mark the contrast between the subsequent 
doings of legitimacy, and the glory of one of nature's nobles. One 
of the protector's maxims was to spare no expense to insure the 
first and best intelligence from abroad, to guide him in his fo- 
reign affairs; he negociated with the Jews of Spain and Portugal 
whom he found the most suited for that purpose. We are told 
that the Earl of Orrery was once walking with Cromwell in the 
gallery of Whitehall, and a man almost in rags came up ; ho at 
once dismissed the peer and took off the beggar to his closet, 



80 SHREWDNESS OF CROMWELL. 

who brought him an account of a large sum of money the Spa- 
niards were sending over to pay their army in Flanders, in a 
Dutch man of war, describing the parts of the ship in which it 
was hidden, The protector immediately sent an express to Sir 
Jeremy Smith, who lay in the Downs, describing what he knew ; 
and, as we were at war with Spain, ordering him to seize the 
money. The commander accordingly secured the prize. 

Cromwell afterwards told Lord Orrery that he obtained his 
intelligence from that scrubby beggarly looking man. But it is 
said by Burnet that the protector's greatest difficulty always 
was to determine which side to take — with France or Spain — as 
Conde, surrounded by protestants in the Netherlands, urged 
Louis de Haro (the noted Spanish minister) to gain Cromwell 
by all means ; and, amidst other temptations, promised never to 
make peace with France until she should abandon all claim upon 
Calais, and consent to its restoration to England. Mazarin, hear- 
ing of this, offered to assure him of Dunkirk, and otherwise 
outbid Conde. The latter, to gratify and secure the protector, 
offered to turn protestant, and to grant him any terms he should 
propose. Cromwell listened, and sent Stoupe through France, to 
talk with their most eminent men, to enquire about their strength, 
present disposition, the oppressions they laboured under, and 
their inclinations towards Conde. This agent went from Paris 
down the Loire, to Bordeaux, to Montauban, then crossed to 
Lyons; he passed merely for an English traveller, every where 
extolling Cromwell's zeal for the protestant religion. They now 
were much at their ease, as the cautious cardinal took care to 
spare himself the additional animosity of a religious warfare ; so 
Stoupe reported to Cromwell the quiet condition of the protes- 
tants, and their determination to let well alone. As Conde was 
discovered by his agent to be generally and correctly appreciated 
as a man who sought nothing but personal aggrandisement, and 
to that end would sacrifice fame and friends ; and as he found the 
spies of Mazarin were as lively as his own, ascertaining all that 
passed between him and the Netherlands ; Cromwell decided to 
have nothing farther to do with Conde. It is also probable that, 
seeing the strength and restlessness of the Jacobite party at 
home, he was too shrewd to allow the unnatural alliance of the 
Huguenots with Charles II., threatened by Mazarin, if the pro- 
tector made an union with Spain. During the negociations 
between France and England, Cromwell required the expulsion 
of Charles and James from France ; therefore, furnishing them 
with money, they were dismissed to Cologne. At this, and seeing 
no hopes of a treaty with Cromwell, the Spaniards coquetted with 
the Stuart princes, inviting them to Brussels, and settling great 
nominal appointments upon them, and promising a vast deal more 
than Spain could perform. It was just before Charles left Paris 



PROJECT RELATIVE TO THE WEST INDIES. 81 

that he changed his religion (?) De Retz is said to have been in 
the secret, and Lord Aubigny had a great hand in it. Chancel- 
lor Hyde had some suspicion of it, but would never quite believe 
such vile hypocrisy. De Retz came over privately to England, 
after the restoration, and had an audience of the king. In his 
penitence the old Frondeur had turned very zealous for religion, 
and, like as face answers to face in a glass, so I suppose he came 
to strengthen the faith of his royal penitent. As for the other 
royal hypocrite, it seems he was not at that time reconciled to 
" holy mother/' for he afterwards told Bishop Burnet that, being 
in a monastery in Flanders, a nun desired him to pray every 
day that, if he was not in the right way, God would bring him 
into it, and that the impression these words made never left him 
till he changed. 

While Cromwell was balancing in his mind what was fit for 
him to do, Gage, who had been a priest, came over from the 
West Indies, and gave him such an account of the feebleness, 
as well as the wealth, of the Spaniards in those parts as made 
him conclude that it would be both a great and an easy conquest 
to seize on their dominions. By this he reckoned he would be 
supplied with such a treasure that his government would be 
established before he should need to have any recourse to a par- 
liament for money. Spain would never admit of a peace with 
England between the tropics : so he was in a state of war with 
them as to those parts, even before he declared war in Europe. 
He upon that equipped a fleet with a force sufficient, as he 
hoped, to have seized Hispaniola and Cuba: and Gage had 
assured him, that success in that expedition would make all the 
rest fall into his hands. Stoupe, being on another occasion 
called to his closet, saw him one day very intent on looking on 
a map, and in measuring distances. Stoupe saw it was a map of 
the Bay of Mexico, and observed who printed it. So, there 
being no discourse upon that subject, Stoupe went next day to 
the printer to buy the map : the printer denied he had printed 
it. Stoupe affirmed he had seen it. Then, he said, it must 
have been only in Cromwell's hand ; for he only had some of 
the prints, and had given him a strict charge to sell none till he 
had leave given him. So Stoupe perceived there was a design 
that way. And when the time of setting out the fleet came on, 
all were in a gaze whither it was to go : some fancied it was to 
rob the church of Loretto, which did occasion a fortification to 
be drawn round it : others talked of Rome itself ; for Crom- 
well's preachers had this often in their mouths, that if it were 
not for the divisions at home, he would go and sack Babylon ; 
others talked of Cadiz, though he had not yet broken with the 
Spaniards. The French could not penetrate into the secret. 
Cromwell had not finished his alliance with them, so lie was not 

f 5 



82 DESCENT ON HISPANIOLA, 

bound to give them an account of the expedition. All he said 
upon it was, that he sent out the fleet to guard the seas, and to 
restore England to its dominion on that element. Stoupe hap- 
pened to say, in a company, he believed the design was on the 
West Indies. The Spanish ambassador hearing that, sent for 
him very privately, to ask him upon what ground he said it, and 
he offered to lay down £10,000 if he could make any discovery 
of that. Stoupe owned to me he had a great mind to the 
money, and fancied he betrayed nothing if he did discover the 
grounds of these conjectures, since nothing had been trusted to 
him ; but he expected greater matters from Cromwell, and so 
kept the secret, and said only that, in a diversity of conjectures, 
that seemed to him more probable than any others. But the 
ambassador made no account of that, nor did he think it worth 
the writing to Don John, then at Brussels, about it. Stoupe 
wrote it over, as his conjecture, to one about the Prince of 
Conde, who at first hearing it, was persuaded that must be the 
design, and went the next day to suggest it to Don John ; but 
Don John relied so much on the ambassador, that this made no 
impression, and indeed all the ministers whom he employed 
knew that they were not to disturb him with troublesome news : 
of which King Charles told a pleasant story. One, whom Don 
John was sending to some court in Germany, coming to the 
king to ask his commands, he desired him only to write him 
news ; the Spaniard asked him if he would have true or false 
news? and when the king seemed amazed at the question, he 
added, if he wrote him true news the king must be secret, for 
he knew that he must write news to Don John that would be 
acceptable, true or false. When the ministers of that court 
showed that they would be served in such a manner, it is no 
wonder to see how their affairs have declined. 

" This matter of the fleet continued a great secret ; and some 
months after that, Stoupe being accidentally with Cromwell, one 
came from the fleet, through Ireland, with a letter, looking as 
if he brought no welcome news. As soon as Cromwell had 
read the letter, he dismissed Stoupe, who went immediately to 
Lord Lisle, and told him what he had seen ; he, being of Crom- 
well's council went to Whitehall, and came back, and told 
Stoupe of the descent made on Hispaniola, and of the misfor- 
tune that had happened. It was then late, and was the post 
night for Flanders ; so Stoupe wrote it as news to his corres- 
pondent, some days before the Spanish ambassador knew any- 
thing of it. Don John was amazed at the news, and had never 
any regard for the ambassador after that, but had a great opinion 
of Stoupe, and ordered the ambassador to make him theirs at 
any rate. The ambassador sent for him, and asked him, now 
that it appeared he had guessed right, what were his grounds ? 



CROMWELL PROTECTS PROTESTANTISM. 83 

and when he told what they were, the ambassador owned he 
had reason to conclude as he did, upon what he saw. The 
court of France was amazed at the undertaking, and was glad 
it had miscarried ; for the cardinal said, if he had suspected it, 
he would have made peace with Spain on any terms, rather than 
have given way to that which would have been such an addi- 
tion to England, as must have brought all the wealth of the 
world into their hands. The fleet took Jamaica ; but this was 
but a small gain, magnified to cover the failing of the main 
design." I have extracted this from Burnet. 

On two signal occasions, Cromwell showed his zeal in pro- 
tecting the protestants ; first, by sending to Mazarin to desire 
him to put a stop to the persecution of the Vaudois, which the 
Duke of Savoy had commenced, saying, France had him in her 
power, and if Mazarin did not, England would at once break 
with France. Mazarin proposed a middle course, but Cromwell 
was positive — so the cardinal was driven to prompt measures, 
and stopped the fury of the papists, and the protector forwarded 
a large sum for the Vaudois, and sent over Morland to comfort 
them, and compensate their losses. The Huguenots, having 
been driven mad by oppression, had been imprudent during 
some tumults at Nismes ; and, seeing the storm which was ready 
to burst upon them, immediately sent over to Cromwell. To his 
honour be it recorded, he instantly, aye, within an hour from 
the envoy's arrival, ordered the messenger to Paris, with an 
effectual letter to his ambassador there, requiring him either to 
be assured that the matter should be dropped, or that he should 
at once quit. Mazarin complained of this imperious way of 
dealing, but the protector was inflexible, and the difficulties 
of France compelled the cardinal to give way. 

The maintenance of British honour in all foreign countries 
gratified the vanity of the English; and so careful was Cromwell 
of the national respect that, though not a crowned head, he in- 
sisted on his ambassadors having the utmost respect paid to them, 
saying the dignity of a crown was on account of the nation, of 
which a king was only the representative head; so, as the nation 
of England was still the same, he would have as much regard 
paid to his ministers as under royalty. Another instance occur- 
red: Blake was at Malago with the fleet, before he attacked 
Spain; some of the seamen, going ashore, met the host carried 
about, and not only paid no respect to it, but laughed at those 
who did. Upon which one of the priests incited the mob to fall 
upon the English, and they accordingly, being vastly superior in 
numbers, attacked and severely beat the English sailors ; who, on 
their return to their ship complained of the treatment they had 
received. Blake sent a trumpet to the viceroy, demanding the 
priest who was the inciting cause of the outrage ; the governor 



84 HONOURING THE NAME OP ENGLISHMAN. 

replied that he had no power over the priests. To which Blake 
answered that he did not send to enquire where the power lay, 
but to inform the viceroy that if he did not send that priest within 
three hours, he would burn their town. They, being unable to 
resist, found a way of sending the offending priest, as directed, 
who attempted to justify himself by the rudeness of the sailors. 
Blake answered, that if he had sent to complain of their conduct, 
he would have punished them severely, as he would never allow 
his men to insult religion, but he took it ill that the priests had 
dared to punish them, for he would have all the world to know 
that Englishmen should only be punished by Englishmen. After 
treating the priest civilly, and reading the Spaniards this moral 
lesson, he sent back the priest uninjured, to his great surprise and 
satisfaction. This mightily pleased Cromwell, who read the let- 
ters to his council and said, he hoped he should make the name 
of an Englishman as great as ever that of a Roman had been. 
The states of Holland were in such dread of him that they took 
care to give him no sort of umbrage ; and when at any time the 
king or his brothers came to see their sister, the princess royal, 
within a day or two after they used to send a deputation to let 
them know that Cromwell had required of the States that they 
should give them no harbour. King Charles II., when catching 
at any excuse for the war with the Dutch, in 1672, alleged that 
they allowed some of his rebels to live in their provinces. Borel, 
then ambassador at London, answered that it was a maxim of 
long standing with them, unless emigrants had engaged in per- 
sonal outrages on their princes, to receive them. The king on 
that reminded the ambassador how he himself and the Duke of 
York had been served. Borel, in the greatest simplicity, replied : 
11 Ah, sire, c'etoit une autre chose : Cromwell etcit un grand 
homme, et it se faisoit craindre par terre et par mer." This 
malapropos contrast confused Charles, who however said, " Je 
me ferai craindre aussi a mon tour." Events showed the differ- 
ence between words and deeds. 

Voltaire says that Cromwell was showering down benefits 
on his country, that England under him had never before been 
so rich, commerce never having been so free; that her victori- 
ous fleets caused her name to be respected everywhere ; and 
at the same time Mazarin, being solely engaged in enriching 
himself, and encreasing his own power, suffered the justice, 
the commerce, the marine, and even the finances, of France to 
languish and decay. After the civil war, he might have done 
that for France which Cromwell had done for England; but 
Mazarin was a foreigner, and as he had not the barbarity 
(continues Voltaire), neither had he the grandeur of soul, which 
Cromwell possessed. All the nations of Europe, who had neg- 
lected the alliance of England under the reigns of James and 



DISTRESSES OF THE STUARTS. 85 

and Charles, solicited it under Cromwell ; and queen Christina, 
though detesting the murder of Charles I., entered into al- 
liance with the protector, whom she could not but admire 
and esteem. We have just seen how Spain and France courted 
union with him. The admirals of Cromwell took Jamaica from 
Spain, and it has ever since belonged to the English. After this 
expedition, the protector soon signed the treaty with Louis XIV., 
which he did without mention of Dunkirk ; nor would he nego- 
tiate at all without being treated as the equal of the king of 
France. Henrietta, the widow of Charles I., and mother of 
Charles II. and James II., the daughter of Henry the Great, was 
so utterly reduced in circumstances as to be compelled to the 
humiliation of imploring, through Mazarin, from Cromwell, that 
he would return her dowry — which, for unassigned reasons, was 
refused, and she was left to languish in poverty. The Spaniards 
loudly inveighed against the cardinal, for having listened to 
Cromwell's demand, that Charles and James should have been 
sent out of France — being cousins of Louis XIV. In answer to 
their virtuous indignation, Mazarin produced their own offers 
to Cromwell ! The two heartless fugitives lived upon the bounty 
of foreigners — and, alas, lived long enough to entail fresh mise- 
ries on England by their hypocrisy, cruelty, and debauchery. 

It fell to the lot of Turenne to sustain similar reverses at 
Valenciennes to those which had damaged the power, although 
they had raised the glory, of Conde at Arras. Turenne repaired, 
so far as was possible, the errors and ill success of La Ferte, 
Who was himself taken prisoner ; he saved the vanquished army, 
every where sustaining the attacks of the enemy, and, within 
a month, besieged and took La Capelle. He besieged Cam- 
bray ; Conde, at the head of 2,000, pierced through the army of 
besiegers, and threw himself into the city; — the inhabitants 
receiving their deliverer upon their knees. Thus these two able 
generals, fairly opposed to each other, exhibited the various 
resources of their genius ; they were admired in the conduct 
of their retreats, as well as in their victories. This state of 
matters went on to the damage of France, and the disorders of 
her finance proved most destructive to her interests. But in 
this she only shared with her old enemy Spain, over whom 
France now gained the distinguished advantage of concluding 
an alliance with Oliver Cromwell. Blake burnt the Spanish 
galleons near the Canaries, and secured the sinews of war with 
which they were loaded. Again the English, with 20 ships, 
blocked up the port of Dunkirk ; and Turenne was strengthened 
by 6,000 veteran English soldiers. Dunkirk, being the most im- 
portant fortress in Flanders, was besieged both by sea and hind. 
Conde and Don John of Austria assembled all their forces to 
relieve it, and the attention of all Europe was directed to this 



86 DUNKIRK DELIVERED TO ENGLAND. 

spot. Louis, now nearly twenty years old, was conducted by 
Mazarin to the seat of war : he was at Calais while his army 
attacked that of Spain, near the Dunes, and gained the most 
glorious victory obtained since the battle of Rocroi. 

Conde could do nothing against the superiority of the troops 
of England; the Spanish army was destroyed, and Dunkirk soon 
after surrendered : the king and Mazarin personally hastened 
to see the garrison march out. The latter suffered not Louis to 
appear either as a general or as a king ; he had scarcely any 
household of his own, for on these occasions he was always at 
the tables either of Mazarin or Turenne ; this is attributed to 
the cardinal's love of power and vain desire to centre all splen- 
dour in himself. Louis XIV. entered Dunkirk only to deliver it 
up to Lockhart, Cromwell's ambassador. With his usual dis- 
honour, the cardinal tried to elude the treaty by cajoling Lock- 
hart out of the place ; but the firmness of the steady English- 
man overcame the craft of the Italian. As success had now 
nearly turned the brain of Mazarin, the bright idea entered his 
head of taking the entire credit of this important affair, because 
Turenne had permitted the gratification of his vanity at Arras. 
He even sent to ask Turenne to sign a paper, which he him- 
self had drawn up, giving all the military credit of the siege 
and capture of Dunkirk to himself. But Turenne had hu- 
moured him far enough, and refused that which would only have 
cast greater ridicule upon the crafty and aspiring minister. 
Mazarin added to the weakness, that could prompt so unrea- 
sonable and ridiculous a request, the unworthiness of retaining 
animosity towards the noted general as long as he lived. Tu- 
renne wrote a characteristic note relative to this great victory 
to his wife : — " The enemies have come upon us : thank God, 
they have been beaten ! I have worked somewhat hard all day 
— so I shall wish you good night, and go to bed." 

Shortly after the taking of Dunkirk, the royal army besieged 
Bergues, where the young king showed intrepidity. Rushing 
into a severe fire of musketry with perfect indifference, he 
would probably have paid the penalty of his rashness, but that, 
at the eager and even passionate remonstrance of Du Plessis, 
Louis, good-naturedly reproving him, turned his horse's head, 
and rode safely away. Within two days he was seized with 
typhus fever in so alarming a manner that his physicians gave 
no hopes of his recovery. Mazarin felt so sure of his death 
that, well knowing his occupation would be gone, he made 
his preparations for removing his treasures from France. As is 
usually the case with courtiers, they began to pay court to his 
expected successor, the Duke of Anjou, who, it must be told, 
conducted himself with evident affection to his brother, showing 
such great solicitude for his recovery as led, on Louis' restora- 



DEATH OF CROMWELL. 87 

lion, to a still closer bond of brotherly feeling. The king him- 
self behaved well throughout his serious illness : on enquiring 
his own condition, and insisting that the truth should be told him, 
Mazarin, with the utmost agitation, confessed that there was 
little hope of his getting well. Louis was grateful, and said he 
was looking into his own conscience, and desired to make pre- 
paration for death. But by antimonial wine he was restored : 
on the re-establishment of his health, appreciating the baseness 
of many of those who surrounded him, he punished them de- 
servedly by exile from the court. Bergues surrendered during 
his illness : and Turenne took Gravelines on August 30. 

Shortly after the acquisition of Dunkirk, Cromwell died, aged 
59 years, in the midst of real glory; having humbled Holland, 
frightened Portugal into a treaty, conquered Spain, and com- 
pelled France to beg support from him, In his death he showed 
the same unshaken firmness of soul which he had always mani- 
fested in every action of his life. Death, observes Voltaire, put 
a period to his vast designs, and to the greatness of England ! 
As connected with the French, one anecdote may with pro- 
priety be here introduced : immediately after Richard Cromwell 
resigned the protectorate, he retired to Montpellier, in France, 
where the Prince de Conti, not knowing to whom he was talk- 
ing, observed that " Oliver Cromwell was a great man, but his 
son Richard a wretch, not to know how to enjoy the fruits of 
his father's crimes !" And yet the father lived and died in 
storms — his sturdy powers exhausted at 59 years of age; and 
Richard lived a life of honorable retirement and rural repose, 
and attained in a placid home the unusual age of 90 ! 

Royalty was despised by another and a female mind: Christi- 
na, of Sweden, at the early age of 27, being the object of great per- 
sonal admiration, renounced a crown of which she seemed every 
way worthy : she contemplated this measure when only 20. A 
short extract from one of her letters exhibits her character: " I 
have possessed without vanity or ostentation ; and I resign w r ith 
cheerfulness: therefore have no fears about me— for my hap- 
piness is above the power of fortune." She was of uncommon 
genius and perseverance, having been the friend and pupil of 
Descartes, who, in fact, died in her palace at Stockholm. She 
understood eight languages ; she had drawn around her all such 
ingenious persons as could improve herself and her people, and 
she quitted the throne from disgust at reigning over an igno- 
rant nation of mere soldiers ; thinking it better to live vnth those 
who cultivated their rational faculties than to command over 
those who were illiterate and without genius. She had studied 
all the sciences, says Voltaire, in a climate where they were then 
unknown ; her design was to retire into the centre of them in 
Italy; and she came into France only in her way thither. As she 



88 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. 

meant to fix at Rome, she abandoned the Lutheran for the po- 
pish faith, being indifferent to either — but desirous to live in 
peace where she dwelt. Although disliked by the court of France, 
there was there not her equal : the king saw her, but, feeling 
his inferiority, he was unable to converse with her. The light- 
ness of the French character prevented their appreciating this 
extraordinary woman, in whom they could perceive no more 
than that she could neither dance nor dress well. In a letter of 
the Duke of Guise it is stated that " she has one shoulder high, 
but she conceals that defect so well by the absurdity of her dress, 
her demeanour, and her actions, that one might lay wagers about 
it. Her face is large, without being out of proportion, with 
strongly marked features ; the nose aquiline, the mouth large 
enough, without being disagreeable — her teeth passable, her eyes 
fine and full of fire ; her complexion, notwithstanding some 
marks of small pox, brilliant; the form of her face tolerable, but 
accompanied by a head-dress very singular. It is a man's wig, 
very thick, and much turned up on the forehead, very thick at 
the sides, and below thin and pointed ; the top of the head is a 
tissue of hair, and the back has something of the head-dress of 
a woman. Sometimes she wears a hat ; her bodice, laced behind 
and slanting, is almost made like our pourpoints ; her shift 
coming out all round above her petticoats, which she wears but 
badly fastened up and not too straight. She is always very much 
powdered, with a world of pomatum, and never wears gloves. 
She is shod like a man — and has a man's voice and tone ; she 
sometimes wears a sword and a buff-jerkin, her wig is black, and 
she has nothing upon her bosom but a scarf of the same colour." 
But she had her shady side : on a second journey to Fon- 
tainebleau, she caused Monaldeschi to be murdered; and it 
was justly alleged that it was not then a queen who punished 
a crime against the state, but a woman who finished an amour 
by a murder. This event disgraced her philosophy; and, 
as the powerful author of the Age of Louis XIV. remarks, 
"in England she w T ould have been punished, but, in France, 
this insult on the king's authority, upon the laws of nations, 
and upon humanity itself, was passed over in silence." The 
history, or rather cause, of this barbarous murder is in- 
volved in obscurity : the shocking circumstances attending it 
leave a frightful blot on the character of this extraordinary 
woman, which deprives her of the sympathy of all who possess 
feelings of humanity. Furnished, as she believed, with evidence 
of the unfaithfulness of her paramour, she sent for father Ma- 
thurin, a roman catholic priest. Causing the offender to be 
brought into the room, she accused Monaldeschi of treason, 
and ordered him to make ready for death ! In vain did he plead 
for life ; he would not confess, perhaps hoping she only meant 



MARRIAGES OF MAZARIN*S NIECES. 89 

to terrify him : she directed the brutal executioner of her ven- 
geance to stab him, but so as only severely to wound him, 
this he accordingly did, but not before himself and the priest 
in vain interceded for the pardon of the culprit. At length, 
finding his condition hopeless, he confessed to the priest, while 
Christina is said to have amused herself in the next room by 
ridiculing the unhappy creature's cowardice. The captain of 
the guard thrust his sword through the throat of Monaldeschi, 
and drew it barbarously backwards and forwards till the poor 
wretch was dead. Spite of this infamous crime, Christina had 
boldness enough once more to visit Paris: but at last was sent 
out of France, abhorred by all just people; though it would 
appear that her want of " tournure " depreciated her more in 
the estimation of the bulk of the people than her detestable 
cruelty. 

The parliament of Paris had become more and more sub- 
missive to the will of the minister, and the members found the 
inutility of struggling with the vast power of the king. That 
feeling had been increased by the death of the chief president, 
Bellievre, who had succeeded Mole, and was one of the few of 
whom Mazarin stood in awe ; of course, the cardinal's own 
strength derived an increase from this event. The ducal coro- 
net rested on the brow of one of his nieces, married to Mer- 
coeur, which allied him to the house of Vendome ; through the 
wife of Conti he was also nearly connected with the royal 
family; and her sister brought him in close contact with the 
house of Modena. Olympia, whom the minister had in his 
own intention destined to be queen-consort, feeling that that 
diadem must grace another brow, in 1657 married Prince 
Thomas of Savoy, leaving her sister Mary to accept the transfer 
of Louis' love. Gratified as the queen was at the destiny of 
Olympia — thus relieved of all fears in that quarter — she the less 
regarded his passion for Mary, who was at once plain, and, as 
Anne thought, free from those seducing graces which often 
more than supply the place of personal beauty. All fears of 
Louis' indiscretion, in contracting a marriage derogatory to the 
honour of France, were shortly removed by his placing the 
Infanta of Spain on the throne. Mazarin had sent Lionne to 
Spain, in 1656, to demand the hand of that princess — to which 
difficulties then existed. But peace had become necessary to 
Spain since the battle of Dunes, and Don Louis met the cardi- 
nal in the Island of Pheasants, on the frontiers, where confer- 
ences began, which lasted four months ; the affair was much 
like an able game of chess — Don Louis excelled in circumspec- 
tion, and Mazarin in cunning. On this occasion, the former is 
reported to have pointed out to the cardinal the great mistake 
he always made, in studying how to deceive. St. Omer, Ypres, 



90 CONDE PARDONED. 

Menin, Oudenarde, and some other towns, were restored to 
Spain. By her marriage contract, Maria- Theresa would in 
time be possessed of those towns, so that her portion was only 
500,000 crowns, a sum inadequate even to pay the expenses of 
the reception the king prepared for her on the frontiers. 

The marriage produced no other real advantage to France 
than peace, because Louis solemnly ratified the Infanta's renun- 
ciation of all right she might afterwards have to any of her 
father's dominions. The Duke of Lorraine was included in 
this treaty, but it was to place him in a posture of humiliation ; 
and, by forbidding him to maintain an army, he was prevented 
from farther mischief. One part of the treaty which terminated 
in the marriage of the Infanta and Louis, was the re-establish- 
ment of the Prince de Conde in France, with conditions honour- 
able to Spain, and beneficial to the rebel prince. Mazarin long 
stuck at this point — but the Spaniard was immovable, although 
Conde implored his personal interests should not stand in the 
way of a treaty full of benefits to Europe. The cardinal deter- 
mined Conde should not re-acquire power in France, and though 
in the end an entire amnesty and pardon was granted the great 
general, he never resumed the precise governments and influence 
he before enjoyed. Mazarin did not again quail before him, 
but, instead of treating him as his superior, now took prece- 
dence of him, and had his pride gratified by seeing that fiery 
prince humiliate himself before the minister whom he had 
so often mocked and flouted at. To his praise be it told, the 
cardinal did not testify farther resentment; although at first 
the young king received the celebrated rebel with sufficient 
distance ; as we are informed by D'Anquetil. 

Mazarin at last returned to Paris with Louis and his consort, 
and of course the power of the minister was still more con- 
solidated by this beneficial and popular measure. This man who 
had twice been driven from Paris, the object of the people's 
scorn and hatred, now entered that same city (according to Mad. 
de Maintenon) in such grandeur, loaded with such honours and 
adulation, and followed by such a train, as was never known to 
any minister of any European monarch, except his greater pro- 
totj r pe, and brother cardinal, Wolsey, on the same soil, when 
he went over to meet the progenitor of this very French king. 
" The splendid household of Mazarin began by 72 baggage 
mules, with the finest housings and tapestries ever seen — red 
velvet and gold and silver embroidery, &c. Then passed 24 
pages, and all the gentlemen and officers of his household; 
after that 12 carriages with six horses each, and his guards. In 
short, his household was more than an hour passing and in 
being admired. I forgot 24 led horses, covered with housings so 
beautiful, and so beautiful themselves, that I could not take my 



LOUIS' WANT OF INFORMATION. 91 

eyes off them." In such truly christian simplicity, then, did this 
successor of the apostles make his entree ! He now no longer 
gave precedency to the princes of the blood, and for the future 
never appeared but with much of this splendid retinue, being 
invariably attended with a regular company of horse, besides his 
own guards, that afterwards became the king's second com- 
pany of musqueteers. He was no longer easy of access, and to 
ask a favour of the king was certain ruin. It is to be regretted 
that he should so far have forgotten the ladder by which he had 
climbed as to manifest indifference to the queen-mother, whom 
he publicly slighted — so that she repented what she had done 
for the proud minister. 

His almost sole occupation now seems to have been the amas- 
sing of a prodigious sum of money. While the cunning finan- 
cier Fouquet could not produce supplies for the necessities of 
the young monarch, it is said that he was compelled frequently 
to answer the king : " Sire, there is none in your majesty's 
coffers — but the cardinal will lend you some." According to 
several writers, Mazarin was not very particular as to the mode 
of adding to his immense wealth — even sharing the prize money 
of the privateers ! But while he was shrewd enough in look- 
ing after his own matters, he grossly neglected the national 
finances, that were only farther embarrassed by the wild efforts 
of Fouquet. Seeing this, and appreciating the talents of Col- 
bert, Mazarin brought him into closer connection with the young 
king; to that afterwards extraordinary minister entrusting the in- 
struction of Louis in that important branch of regal education. 
Thus tardily the cardinal endeavoured to supply the deficiencies 
in the training of the monarch, for the long neglect of which he 
was highly culpable. Except in martial exercises and manly ac- 
complishments, Louis was greatly wanting. Of history he knew 
little, still less of the learned languages; of Italian he acquired 
a smattering during the period of his love for Olympia and Mary 
Mancini; and he learnt a little Spanish about the time of the 
negotiations for his marriage. He is said to have emplo) r ed his 
leisure in reading books of entertainment ; he was pleased with 
poetry and romances, the pictures of gallantry and heroism 
in which flattered his self-love. He read the tragedies of Cor- 
neille, and formed in himself that taste which arises only from 
good sense. This was heightened by the conversation of his 
mother and the ladies of her court, that tended to cultivate in 
the young king's breast that remarkable politeness then begin- 
ning to distinguish the French court. To this had been intro- 
duced a certain elevated gallantry, which savoured of the 
Spanish genius of those times, and joined therewith that ele- 
gance, softness, and decent freedom, no where to be found, 
according to Voltaire, but in France. But Louis' progress was 



92 ST. EVREMOND. 

greater in pleasure than in learning, from his 18th to his 20th 
year ; and his inclinations for the Baroness de Beauvais, Made- 
moiselle d'Argencourt, Olympia, and afterwards Mary, Mancini, 
were so well known as scarcely by any historian to be omitted. 
The latter followed him with notorious marks of fondness, and 
indeed when he tore himself from her, said to him " You weep, 
where you might command." Whether or not from an idea that 
his time could not be very long, Mazarin now became as sedu- 
lous, as he had formerly been neglectful, to improve the budding 
talents of the king. But the necessity under which he had found 
himself to rule with determination after the civil wars — with that 
despotic principle within every human breast — perhaps led Louis 
to govern with a degree of harshness which a constitutional 
monarch should always avoid. 

Mary Mancini finally married the constable Colonna, an Ita- 
lian gentleman of high family, but of no estate ; on them the 
cardinal settled a large fortune, and placed them in a beautiful 
house he had purchased at Rome. In acting thus it is understood 
it was for the sake of keeping down scandal — as the passion of 
Louis was by no means extinguished by his marriage — and pre- 
serving the peace of the royal family of France. Hortense, the 
most admired for her beauty, in 1661, married the Marshal de 
Meilleraie, he took the name of Mazarin, and to him the car- 
dinal bequeathed the larger portion of his almost boundless 
wealth. She afterwards separated from her husband, becoming 
one of the mistresses of Charles II., and settled in England, 
where she patronised St. Evremond; and died at London, 1699. 
St. Evremond was connected with Fouquet, and was involved in 
his disgrace. Colbert, who was indefatigable in his search for 
evidence against a man whom he wanted to destroy, ordered 
some papers to be seized which were in the hands of Madame 
du Plessis-Bellievre — among them was found a MS. letter of 
St. Evremond' s on the subject of the peace of the Pyrenees. It 
contained nothing but mere pleasantry ; being read to the king 
and considered a crime against the government, Colbert, who 
hated him for being a friend of Fouquet's, and dreaded him as a 
wit, urged Louis to drive him away. He retired to England, 
where he lived in peace; but (Voltaire says) the Marquis de 
Miremont assured him there was in reality an additional cause 
of his disgrace, which he never would reveal. My reader, I 
trust, will pardon these few lines of anticipation, which I was 
the more tempted to introduce here as there may arise no far- 
ther necessity again to allude to the lady or St. Evremond. 

About now, Mazarin made a gift of all he possessed to the 
king. By some this is thought to have been an effusion of affec- 
tion; but it is rather to be attributed to the apprehension he 
entertained as to the right he had to these ill-got possessions, 



FINAL ILLNESS OF MAZARIN. 93 

which became secured on the king's returning them to him — 
Mazarin, no doubt, having well calculated on that ; and, by this 
act, all future investigation was rendered almost impossible. 

The end of his long course of intrigue approached ; amidst 
all the bustle, fatigues, honours, reverses, successes, reproaches, 
iniquities, kindly actions (and many there were), extravagant 
ambition, inordinate graspings at wealth and power, that cha- 
racterised his remarkable career, the insatiate destroyer, Death, 
claimed him who had so long ruled and commanded. Against 
this power the sinking cardinal could offer no resistance ; and, 
as the great mover of cabinets approached that bourne whence 
no traveller returns; and as his spirit caught a glimpse of that 
unknown land towards which he was fast travelling (although 
religion had never been treated by him as other than a state 
machine), he is said now to have had some fearful impressions of 
its importance, and to have gone into the enjoined ceremonies 
of the catholic faith with a spirit of devotion to which there- 
tofore he had been a stranger. He forced the princess palatine 
(Anne de Gonzaga) to resign a certain high post about the 
queen ; and another lady to vacate the corresponding office of 
superintendant of the queen-mother, in favour of two of his 
nieces; and, after some beneficial arrangements for others of 
his family, having performed his last official acts, he began to 
make preparations for his great change. 

Public prayers, the too frequent forerunners of approaching 
death, were put up for the cardinal's recovery ; the king and 
queen went to visit him in his last confinement. Although he 
adopted these extra precautions as to papistical observances, 
and showed some apprehensions, they do not appear to have 
been of very startling order, for he was blinded enough, at least 
so it is said, to imagine that his great sufferings (he had long 
been tortured with the stone) would expiate his sins! Dur- 
ing the pauses of his bodily pains the ruling passion, strong in 
death, prompted him to " stick to business." And he had the 
evident weakness to try to conceal the ravages of his frightful 
and tormenting disease — so much so as to make use of quan- 
tities of paint. He appears to have maintained a good opinion 
of Gourville, the former friend of Conde ; in fact, while he 
caused himself to be carried about the park at Vincennes in a 
chair, Mazarin told him in confidence he felt he was rapidly 
dying. He requested the royal family to be called around his 
bed ; and, having begged the acceptance by each of some va- 
luable keepsake, he took a feeling leave of them, and begged 
it might be a final one, as he felt he was going. With a re- 
markable degree of formality, Mazarin was carefully dressed in his 
purple robes, and with his cardinal's cap on his head. He asked 
all his domestics, whom he directed to be present, to forgive him 



94 HONOURS AT MAZARIN's DEATH. 

for any harshness he might ever have been guilty of, and bade 
them finally farewell. His physician, a few hours before his death, 
informed the dying minister that a comet had just appeared, in 
a way to leave the flattering impression of its being a superna- 
tural portent of his departure ; when, with a polite contempt, 
Mazarin replied/' The comet does me too much honour." He 
farther sent the Chevalier de Mere to the chief president of the 
parliament, begging him to declare to them that he died their 
very humble servant. 

After which characteristics, he departed, March 9th, 1661, 
aged 59 years : his body was buried in the college which he had 
founded. It was not till 1694 that his letters, 103 in number, 
were published. He died, in one sense, sincerely regretted, as 
he had now become respected by the nation. To the king, whose 
praise it was gratefully to put up with much annoyance, from his 
overruling habits and disposition, it must have afforded relief, 
even while he sincerely wept over the tomb of this minister ; 
and the remark he is known to have made reflects honour on 
both : " I know not what I should have done if he had lived 
longer !" Louis XIV. and the court went into mourning — an 
honour, except to royalty, almost unprecedented. 

In Voltaire's able summing-up of the character of this dis- 
tinguished minister it is said that we are to judge of mankind 
by their enterprises, and not by their success; that Mazarin was 
prudent, artful and greedy of riches. But to discover the degree 
of genius in a minister it is necessary, either to hear him speak, 
or to read his writings ; for that which we daily see in other walks 
of life often happens among ministers — he, who has the greatest 
genius frequently fails ; while he whose character is distinguished 
by a greater degree of patience and fortitude generally succeeds. 
In estimating Mazarin, we must look to his actions, it is true, 
but eschew the common-place opinion that great success indi- 
cates consummate abilities. Where can history furnish more 
celebrated cases than the success of certain eminent command- 
ers ? and yet none but servile flatterers, or anxious expectants, 
would rank all such with those of a very high order of intellect. 
In the long contests between Mazarin and De Retz it is easy 
to see which was the superior genius, and yet, such is the 
value of common sense, Mazarin weathered that storm which 
for ever shivered the consummate Frondeur. The great states- 
man is discoverable by the monuments he leaves behind — not 
in storied urn or animated bust, but the substantial benefits to 
his country. The monument, which immortalizes Cardinal Ma- 
zarin, is the acquisition of Alsace : he procured that province 
to France, whilst all France was incensed against him; and, 
by a singular fatality, he did the country more service while he 
was persecuted in it than he ever accomplished during the peace- 



HIS INORDINATE RAPACITY. 95 

able course of unlimited power. It is to be borne in mind that, 
in the frenzy of party spirit, while declaiming against the im- 
postures, bad faith, and avarice, of this extraordinary man, all is 
omitted which tells to his advantage : it is certain that he success- 
fully carried out the plan of Richelieu to lower the aristocracy and 
raise the monarchy. And experience abundantly shows (at any 
rate to me) that, excepting democracy, the very worst form of go- 
vernment is an oligarchy: and to Mazarin's praise let it be told 
that he never looked to the scaffold as an engine. No doubt he 
would have shone more had he comprehended the welfare of the 
people in his endeavours for the interests of royalty; on the other 
hand, D'Anquetil says, it was impossible to do anything effectual 
for France until he had prostrated feudality. 

The grand and elegant taste now rising in France had been 
fostered, if not introduced, by Mazarin. He himself left jewels 
worth 1,200,000 crowns, valued 100 years back at 20,000,000 
of livres, while the crown jewels were not valued at more than 
100,000 crowns. To celebrate the royal marriage he had an Ita- 
lian opera represented at the Louvre, entitled " Ercole amante" — 
but the French derived no other gratification from it than that 
of seeing the king and queen dance ! Mazarin therefore set 
about a more popular affair : a kind of allegorical tragedy, called 
Lisis (France) and Hesperia (Spain), composed by Quinaut, was 
played at the Louvre. From the time of the king's marriage, 
there was nothing but a continued series of feasts, pleasures, and 
gallantry, which continued to the death of Mazarin. Subse- 
quently it came out that he had committed the most bare-faced 
depredations on the revenue : he had appropriated to himself 
several branches of the public monies ; he had made great pro- 
fits out of the army supplies ; he had exacted great sums by 
lettres de cachet (which by law was punishable with death). By 
these nefarious means he left such an enormous sum that Cau- 
martin, intendant of finances, told Voltaire some years after the 
cardinal's death, he was at the Mazarin palace, where the duke 
and Hortense then lived ; that he saw there a large and deep 
chest of drawers, which filled one side of the closet from top to 
bottom. The keys had long been lost, and no one had ever 
opened the drawers. M. de Caumartin, surprised at such neg- 
ligence, told the duchess that perhaps something curious might 
be discovered in them. In consequence they were opened, and 
were found full of doubloons, gold counters and medals, which 
Madame Mazarin threw by handfuls out of the window, to the 
people, for eight days together ! 

The approaching death of Mazarin had opened a greater 
variety of hopes and fears, intrigues and cabals, than perhaps 
were ever known in any court. The ladies, who were conscious 
of extraordinary charms, rivalled each other in schemes to 



96 FOUaUET's VILLANIES. 

entrap a prince of 22 years of age, from whom their hopes were 
greater by knowing that his susceptible nature had been already 
so far seduced as to have contemplated offering his crown to 
his mistress. The younger courtiers desired the revival of the 
reign of favourites ; and each particular minister felt qualified 
and anxious to be placed at the head of affairs. 

Anne of Austria resolved to promote the removal of the cor- 
rupt Fouquet ; turning her thoughts to Marshal Villeroi, as the 
most honest of public men. She little believed the king, who 
had been brought up in ignorance of the business of state, 
would venture to incur the responsibilities of government. 
There were none among all those who had acted under the 
first minister who asked the king when he would hear them — 
on the contrary, the universal question to him was, " To whom 
must we address ourselves ? " to which Louis constantly replied, 
"Tome!" And the surprise was increased when it appeared 
that he persevered in his resolution. But he had considered his 
own abilities, and, convinced of aptitude for government, he 
took the reins into his own hands, and followed the advice of 
his late Mentor, to try literally to rule for himself. He pre- 
scribed to each of his ministers their functions, required period- 
ical statements of their proceedings; reposing in them sufficient 
confidence to give sanction to their ministry, while, by watchful- 
ness he took jare that they did not abuse their trusts. Fouquet 
was by him warned to regulate the derangement of his depart- 
ment, and told to abandon the flagrant acts which had brought 
disgrace on his office and misery upon the people. This infa- 
tuated man believed himself too strong to be in danger, and 
reckoned on the king's soon wearying of dry and tedious finan- 
cial documents. Finding Louis reduced them to order, and by 
acute remarks stripped these delusive papers of the attempted 
deceptions which characterized them, Fouquet was again and 
again warned of his peril — but he would take no warning. At 
length this bad man bethought him of stultifying his youthful 
master, by putting into his hands such immense sums to squan- 
der on his pleasures as would debauch his mind from the severer 
pursuits of business. At first, indeed, he bid fair to effect this 
object on the return of the court to Paris, after the death of the 
cardinal. But, though Louis could seem to give himself up to 
pleasure, he found moments to devote to the duties of his posi- 
tion ; and at night, with Colbert, examined the accounts of the 
finance minister, detecting the mystifications which that crafty 
knave practised in his statements. 

The marriage of his brother the Duke of Anjou with Hen- 
rietta of England, sister of Charles II., had taken place in 1661. 
She was formed to attract ; and the grandeur of the nuptials had 
called forth fresh attempts at refined amusements ; so that the 



THE CHARMING HENRIETTA, 97 

court witnessed a long and splendid succession of feasts and 
gallantries. In the Memoirs of Madame la Fayette, we find that 
every day Henrietta went to bathe she rode in a carriage, on 
account of the heat, and returned on horseback, followed by all 
the ladies magnificently dressed — feathers on their heads — ac- 
companied by the king and all the youth of the court. After 
supper they got into caleches, and went to wander a part of the 
night round about the canal. This English princess is said to 
have introduced into the court the charm of an agreeable and 
sprightly conversation, which she improved afterwards by the 
reading of good authors and by a just taste. She soon became a 
proficient in the language, which she could not write with pro- 
priety at the time of her marriage. Inspiring a fresh emulation 
of wit, she introduced into the court such grace and politeness 
as the rest of Europe scarcely knew : she had all the spright- 
liness of Charles II., adorned by feminine delicacy. 

Madame de Motteville testifies to the kind of elysian world 
the new court was creating ; in the midst of which the king's 
attentions to the beauty of England were sufficiently marked to 
excite the uneasiness of the two French queens. The elder, 
took a mother's right to express to her son the scandal which 
his conduct created. He, forgetting the inalienable duty of a 
parent, suffered a refractory coldness to arise which separated 
him more and more from that mother to whom he owed so 
much. It is affirmed, by his apologists, that this platonic effu- 
sion consisted of little more than coquetish sallies of wit, and a 
secret sympathy too often repeated in the little feasts of the 
court. Louis sent her letters in verse, that Henrietta answered : 
the Marquis of Dangeau was the confidant of both. In this 
ingenious correspondence he was employed by the king to write 
for him, and the princess also engaged him to write answers for 
her — thus serving them both, without suffering either to suspect 
he was entrusted by the other — which was one of the chief 
causes of his good fortune. It seems that great alarm was felt 
by the royal family, and the remonstrances of the queen-mother 
were unacceptable to her daughter-in-law Henrietta. The effect 
was a plan gradually to detach Louis from the more immediate 
circle where he should have shone, and that the king endea- 
voured to blind his mother by a pretended love affair with some 
new objects. Mademoiselles De Pons, De Chemerault, and De 
la Valiere, Henrietta's ladies of honour, were pitched upon as 
covers for the more dangerous intentions of the monarch. 

In addition, he still maintained his tender gallantry with the 
Countess of Soissons (Olympia), but exhibited most to Hen- 
rietta herself — thus setting a very pernicious example to his 
court and people. Madame de Pons the quccn-mothcr soon 
moved away ; there can be no doubt of the affair ending in 



98 MADEMOISELLE LA VALIERE. 

criminality between Louis and De Chemerauit ; but more serious 
and lasting was the fascination of La Valiere. So that the kind 
queen-mother consoled herself, under the mortification of her 
hopeless attempts, by endeavours to keep the queen as much as 
possible in the dark. But a lasting esteem and sincere friend- 
ship (if it may be so written) appears to have been consolidated 
between Louis and his lively sister-in-law, which long after showed 
itself, when she set Racine and Corneille to write the tragedy of 
Berenice, having in her eye the restraint she had put upon her 
own inclinations, lest they should disgrace her. Louis XIV. is 
sufficiently pointed out in these lines : 

Howe'er obscure thy birth by heaven's decree, 
The gazing world had own'd its Lord in thee ! 

La Valiere w r as for two years the secret object to whom were 
dedicated the gay amusements that the king gave at the queen's 
or the Princess Henrietta's. At the recitatives, used at the dances, 
the sentiments of the hearts of the lovers were introduced, which, 
though intended to be secret, did not long continue so. The 
Abbe de Choisi describes La Valiere as having a beautiful com- 
plexion, fair hair, a sweet smile, blue eyes, with so tender, and 
yet so modest, an expression as to gain immediate esteem. She 
had but little wit ; what she had, by continual reading, she im- 
proved. Engrossed by her passion for Louis, La Valiere was 
devoid of ambition ; the king therefore for once could experience 
the uncommon happiness of being loved for his own sake. Mde. 
de Soissons and Henrietta are said to have been inexpressi- 
bly mortified at first, on finding what was meant to be a feint 
should end in so permanent a reality ; and they thereupon de- 
termined to expose Louis' infidelity to his queen 1 But if her 
heart was won, La Valiere kept him at a distance, and is said to 
have maintained a fearful struggle between her affections and 
her sense of virtue. Madame de Brancas was instrumental in 
the fall of this beautiful, but unhappy, girl, which was followed 
on her part immediately with bitter remorse. The career ot 
immorality in which Louis now indulged is painful to record, 
but, having to give his life and times, it falls not to me to write 
only what one could desire, but what actually occurred. 

A fresh intrigue almost immediately disgraced the fickle 
king; Mdlle. de la Mothe Houdancourt nearly fell a victim 
to his illicit desires. But, owing to some remaining feelings ot 
virtue in her breast, and the watchfulness of the Duchess of 
Navailles, and some iron gratings which she caused to be placed 
on the roof of the palace, around the apartments of the maids of 
honour, Houdancourt, escaping, was permitted to leave the field 
in the possession of La Valiere. A fabricated letter, purporting 
to be from the Queen of Spain, to her daughter the Queen of 



INDIGNATION OF THE &UEEN. 99 

France, was got up between the Countess of Soissons, Henri- 
etta, the Marshal de Grammont, and one or two others. It 
passed to the hands of one of the Spanish ladies of the queen, 
who, just before she presented it to her royal mistress, suspect- 
ing there was some peculiarity about it, ventured to open it her- 
self. Perceiving that the contents would only distress the queen, 
she went to Anne of Austria, to whom she told the matter, 
and offered to leave the letter with her; but the mother of the 
king directed this lady to take it to Louis. When he received 
it he turned very red, and asked if the queen had seen it ? 
He consulted his various ministers as to who wrote this vexa- 
tious epistle, but he could get no information. As he found his 
queen was jealous, he settled it in his own mind that the Duke 
and Duchess of Navailies, two of the most virtuous of the court, 
and who had, in proper ways, shown their displeasure at his 
improper courses, were the authors. Louis had then justice 
enough not to injure this worthy couple upon mere suspicion. 
But the Countess of Soissons contrived an interview with the 
queen, and to her majesty exposed the immoralities of her royal 
consort; and at the same time she contrived to implicate the 
Duke and Duchess of Navailies to Louis, who now cruelly de- 
prived them of their posts and drove them from court. 

With the spirit of a Spaniard, and of a Spanish woman, the 
queen stung the king with reproaches, which unhappily irritated, 
rather than reclaimed, that selfish breast. Seeing the hope- 
lessness of her case, and perhaps in utter disgust and alienation, 
she tried to refrain in general from useless remonstrances. But 
on one occasion, by her just anger, she so chafed Louis that he 
threw off the little remains of decent external appearances, and, 
on the first night of the carnival, 1663, he refused to go with 
the queen, and openly escorted La Valiere. Anne of Austria 
tried her utmost to support the queen; yet as old age was ap- 
proaching, she felt the utter hoplessness of maintaining a conflict 
with her son, and very. reluctantly followed the course she had laid 
down. By even receiving in her sick chamber the mistress of nis 
passionate affections, she deeply distressed her daughter-in-law. 
On this subject Mr. James has a beautiful passage : — " many a 
bitter tear bedewed the queen's solitary pillow ; and when the 
unhappy girl who yielded to the king's temptations declared, 
in after years, that, at the Carmelites, she would remember the 
pain which the sight of a successful rival's triumph gave her, 
perhaps she forgot the sorrows that she herself had inflicted on 
a pure and affectionate heart, and the bitter tears she had wrung 
from the eyes of one who had so much more cause to be indig- 
nant, who had so much greater a right to weep ! " 

Louis continued to divide his time between the pleasures 
which agreed with his age, and the duties of his station, lie held 



100 fouquet's glory. 

a council every day. and afterwards conferred with Colbert ; the 
chief subject was the fall of Fouquet, that involved those of 
Gueregaud, Pelisson, Gourville, and many others. The king had 
accepted a magnificent entertainment at Vaux, which Fouquet 
had given him; and it should be told of the royal hypocrite 
that this took place after he had decided to destroy that minister. 
This splendid palace and gardens had cost 18,000,000 of livres, 
a sum nearly to be doubled, if estimated according to present 
currency. Ke had built it twice over, having purchased three 
entire villages, the ground of which was enclosed in his immense 
gardens, at that time considered the finest in Europe: his water- 
works, though subsequently eclipsed by those of Versailles, Marli 
and St. Cloud, w T ere then regarded with wonder. St. Germain 
and Fontainebleau were certainly very inferior to this superb 
country mansion of Fouquet's. The king was not insensible of 
this amazing grandeur ; and, seeing the arms and motto of the 
aspiring minister, which decorated all parts of the vast build- 
ing — a squirrel, with the words, " Quo non ascendam V (to what 
eminence shall I not attain?) it w T as necessary to explain them 
to him, so little did he know of Latin. A serpent is represented 
pursuing the squirrel; — this being the heraldic bearing of Colbert, 
the witty courtiers whispered it was typical of the expected rise 
of the latter upon the ruins of the former. At this feast Moliere's 
comedy, les Fdcheux, was for the first time acted, the admired pro- 
logue having been written by Pelisson. 

Fouquet had enraged the king by having loved La Valiere, to 
whom he had made illicit overtures previous to the king's passion, 
which had been indignantly rejected by her. And when the mi- 
nister knew of the king's affection, he endeavoured to consti- 
tute himself the go-between in that disgraceful business, in 
attempting which he still farther inflamed the king. On his part 
Louis disgraced his royalty by a refinement of dissimulation, and 
even intended to let the blow of being arrested fall upon him 
while partaking of his splendid hospitality; from this however 
he was dissuaded by Anne of Austria. From Gourville we learn 
that Fouquet was aware of the coming storm, and accordingly 
set his house in order ; endeavouring to gain the aid of Conde, 
and to place his tried friend Crequi so that he should be able to 
help his benefactor in case of need. He had bought, from the 
Duke de Retz, Belle-isle, which he had strongly fortified — under 
the idea of a secure retreat — so that, should matters proceed to 
extremities, he could bid defiance to the French king, and, rais- 
ing the standard of rebellion, procure aid from England. Fou- 
quet sold one office he held for the sum of 1 ,400,000 livres, and, 
to soothe the king, placed that enormous sum in the royal trea- 
sury. Whether or not there was a latent fear of disturbances 
being created by the party which the almost boundless resources 



THE MINISTER'S ARREST. 101 

of this nefarious minister had drawn around him, his arrest was 
postponed from time to time, until the king, with a small camp, 
visited Bretagne to select a spot on which to erect a naval depot. 
On this occasion, in the memoirs of Artagnan, we are informed 
that he went to the levee ; and the king, who thus early in life 
was "prudence" itself, began a conversation of a general nature. 
Being anxious (my reader must bear in mind this was in 
public) to mislead the bystanders, Louis enquired after several 
whom Artagnan was acquainted with. Watching an oppor- 
tunity, he beckoned that officer aside, and in a hurried, but low, 
tone, asked if Colbert had spoken with him ? The king was 
answered that he had told him to arrest Fouquet, and first to 
go to his majesty for orders. On this Louis remarked it was 
unnecessary to say more than to corroborate this and to urge 
upon them to be very particular in preventing Fouquet's speak- 
ing to anybody afterwards. Fouquet attended the council as 
usual; some say perfectly collected, others, that he trembled. 

The king preserved his dissimulation, but was noticed as 
being more pertinacious in his questions, owing to the number 
of which the sitting was unusually long. Fouquet at last re- 
tired, attended by a swarm of courtiers : Artagnan was waiting 
for him with 30 musqueteers of the guard, and informed the mi- 
nister he was under arrest — when the whole group of his friends 
immediately left him. Gourville showed him kindness, how- 
ever, and ran to his wife ; who was so instantly straitened that, 
from nearly incalculable wealth, as the officers of the king had 
gone straightway to Fouquet's house and sealed up the doors, she 
could now command only fifteen louis-d'ors. He took her to his 
home, and to the praise of Gourville's gratitude and right feel- 
ing now, he felt honoured by providing every necessary for the 
wife of his former benefactor in her misfortunes. Had the 
scheme of the brother of the fallen minister, the Abbe Fouquet, 
been carried into effect — to set fire to his house, so as to insure 
the destruction of many dangerous documents, the secrets of 
many families would have been lost; but the friends of Fouquet 
hesitated too long, and the opportunity was gone. Gourville 
was not dis-esteemed for his attachment to Fouquet, and re- 
mained on good terms with the court — in fact, he was a personal 
companion of Louis, and frequently gambled with the king. 
Fouquet was taken to the Bastille, his influence was gone — but, 
Pelisson and Mademoiselle Scudery shared with Gourville the 
honour of befriending the unfortunate ; though the former and 
another chief clerk soon shared his disgrace. Colbert had com- 
mitted to him the management of Fouquet's trial, which led to 
the formation of a board of commissioners, who would doubtless 
have shown the fallen financier little or no mercy. 

Mazarin had left the king a council composed of the chan- 
ts 3 



102 INJUSTICE OF LOUIS. 

cellor Seguier ; Le Tellier, minister of war, father of the famous 
Louvois, who succeeded him; De Lionne, minister of foreign 
affairs. On his death bed he had emphatically recommended 
Colbert, whom he could conscientiously advise Louis to adopt, 
instead of Fouquet : but it seems Fouquet knew too much of the 
cardinal's peculation to render it safe for him to be displaced 
during Mazarin's life. In speaking of the various passions of 
the commissioners to try Fouquet, Turenne said, " I can very well 
believe that Monsieur Colbert is more anxious that Fouquet 
should be hanged, and that Monsieur le Tellier is more afraid 
that he should not." There can be no doubt that the king dropped 
into the angry partisan, and lost sight of those principles of 
fairness which peculiarly become the regal function. 

Fouquet was arrested in 1661, and was dragged about from 
prison to prison ; justice was denied him, even the protection of 
the forms of law was refused ; nor was it till November 14, 1663, 
he was brought before the Chamber of Justice. This mockery 
was cruelly protracted till December 20, 1664, when he was found 
guilty of peculation — not of high treason. Sentence of perpe- 
tual banishment was immediately pronounced : of 22 judges who 
gave their suffrages, 9 were for death, and 13 for the milder 
course. Louis XIV. took upon him to commute this sentence 
for a far more severe condition, by confining him within the 
castle of Pignerol ; where, by the command of the king, he was 
prohibited from holding any communication, written or personal, 
with any human being but his goalers ! D'Anquetil says he knew 
far too much for Louis to trust him out of France, or to allow 
of his communicating his observations to others. But Fouquet 
was allowed a confessor, for whom he often sent ; and then they 
feared he would find some mode of communication with his 
friends, so that his visits were limited to four in a year. The 
liberality of the court consisted in allowing him, very sparsely, 
the use of books. 

Louvois, in an extant letter to St. Mars, the governor, 
explains the grand object of government to be the complete 
prevention of his communicating with any one. The castle 
being struck by lightning, the part where the disgraced minister 
and his servant lodged was destroyed, and their escape was 
little short of miraculous. His hardships were encreased on the 
discovery of several natural and ingenious attempts to corres- 
pond with his friends — he wrote upon his linen, ribbons, &c; 
he had made ink with soot and water, and pens out of the bones 
of fowls and rabbits. His windows were now grated, and he 
was prevented from seeing any thing but the sky. Thus shame- 
fully, and to the everlasting dishonour of the king, was the 
sentence of this peculator perverted. As time passed on, the 
rigours of his confinement were somewhat relaxed — he was per- 



DEATH OF FQUGIUET. 103 

mitted to write to his wife. In 1678 a letter from Louvois was 
delivered to Fouquet with the seal unbroken, he read it, and was 
accommodated with materials to reply — the two letters were 
immediately destroyed, therefore their contents are unknown. 
But he was still farther favoured, and permitted ad libitum to 
write to his family, and to join in sports, with the officers 
on duty at the castle. Fouquet was allowed to speak with a 
brother prisoner, the Count de Laugun ; the journals of the day 
and plenty of books were now granted him ; many letters passed 
to Louvois, each productive of some advantage to the prisoner. 
In 1679 his wife and family were allowed to see him at all 
times without witnesses : it was granted to his wife to live with 
him, and his daughter had a room adjoining. But the changes 
he had passed through — hope deferred indeed maketh the heart 
sick ; the falling from such high estate — the loss of all the 
social ties of life — the injustice and cruelty with which confessed 
crimes had been treated — preyed upon his spirits and under- 
mined his health, that had long been failing, and under his 
accumulated sufferings he sunk in 1680. Gourville says he was 
released from his prison several months before his death ; but 
this ill agrees with a reprimand Louvois wrote to St. Mars for 
having allowed Fouquet's son to take away his papers after 
his death. 

As a discussion will soon come on the tapis relative to this 
event, I beg my reader's attention here to the following words of 
Voltaire: " The Countess deVaux, his daughter-in-law, had con- 
firmed to me this fact (his release from prison) before : however 
the contrary is believed in his family : so that it is not certainly 
known where this unfortunate person died." His remains were 
said to have been laid in a chapel founded by his father ; but 
Mr. James, who is strenuous for the fact of his death in 1680, 
acknowledges that it is remarkable the coffin could never be 
found there. We go back to events which transpired at the time, 
in consequence of the arrest of Fouquet. The Chamber of Justice 
caused those peculators who had perpetrated similar crimes — in 
character, if not in degree — to those of the finance minister, to 
disgorge, so far as was practicable, their ill-gotten wealth. Col- 
bert would have dealt tenderly with them, but, finding it inju- 
dicious, he was compelled to put on the screw, and many fled 
to foreign countries; and, as Mr. James says, " had the pleasure 
of finding themselves and their mammon safe, while the Chamber 
of Justice amused the boys of Paris by hanging them in effigy.' ' 
Some, however, were caught, and stripped. 

Colbert was prime minister. Louis could have governed with- 
out one ; as it was his glory that in France there should only be a 
king and subjects. He claimed precedency as " most christian" 
king ; Spain opposed the honour of " catholic," and proudly made 



10 i DISPUTES ABOUT PRECEDENCE. 

frequent allusions to the inferiority which unavoidably ensued to 
France from Francis I. having been a prisoner at Madrid. Many 
times these and similar pretensions had been debated at Rome, 
which solemn conclave was supposed to be very suitable to 
arrange these vanities of greatness. While their pretensions 
remained undecided, a step more or less in a procession, the 
placing of a chair or some such trifle, caused high gratification, 
as giving a triumph. The chimerical place of honour on these 
points, and with regard to personal honour, leading to duels — 
was carried to a most pernicious length in that age. D'Estrades, 
celebrated in French history, was now ambassador to England ; 
a new Swedish ambassador had been sent over ; and Watteville, 
the Spanish ambassador — all disputed precedence. 

A tumult took place in the street on one occasion, and the 
coach horses of the French ambassador were killed ; and, D'Es- 
trade's retinue being wounded and dispersed, the Spaniards drew 
their swords, and took by this violence that precedence which 
the circumstances then permitted them. On hearing of this, 
Louis XIV. ordered the Spanish ambassador to quit France ; 
broke off the existing conferences relative to the boundaries of 
the Low Countries ; stopped a new ambassador from France to 
Spain, who was then on his road ; and directed his father-in-law, 
Philip IV., to be told that if he did not apologise and acknow- 
ledge the superiority of France, the war should be renewed. 
Spain could not go to war, being poor and proud, they hit upon 
the expedient of sending a formal message to declare to the king 
at Fontainebleau, in presence of the corps diplomatique, that the 
Spanish ministers should never, for the future, have any disputes 
with those of France ! If in this Jesuitical message there was 
no direct recognition of the superiority of France, at least the 
weakness of Spain must be inferred. 

France was feared no where more than at Rome. Crequi, 
the French ambassador, carried himself very loftily, and dis- 
gusted the Italians. As servants generally imitate such foibles 
of their masters, they aped the manners of the youth of quality 
in Paris, in attacks upon the night-watches of Rome, and similar 
reprehensible exploits. On one occasion some of Crequi's fol- 
lowers having taken it into their heads to attack a small com- 
pany of Corsicans (who were the guards of the city), the valiant 
night-brawlers were put to flight. The whole body of Corsicans, 
enraged at the insult, and secretly animated by Don Mario 
Chigi (brother of Pope Alexander VII., who hated the Duke de 
Crequi), in a body attacked the French ambassador's house, fired 
upon the carriage of the Duchess, who was just then entering 
the palace, killed one of her pages, and wounded several of the 
servants. This occurred August 20, 1662. The duke quitted 
Rome, accusing the pope and his relatives of having favoured 



FRANCE HUMBLES ROME. 105 

this assassination. Under a delusive idea that the affair would 
soon blow over, the pope delayed any satisfaction, except, four 
months afterwards, to cause one of the Corsicans and one of the 
sbirri to be hanged, directing the leader to retire from Rome. 
To his dismay, however, he learnt that the French king had di- 
rected his troops to march into Italy, under the command of 
Du Plessis Praslin, with a view of besieging Rome. His holiness 
sought aid from all catholic princes, endeavouring to stir them 
up against Louis ; circumstances made against the pope. 

Spain was engaged with Portugal in an embarrassing war, 
and the Turks had made an inroad into Europe, so that Rome 
could only irritate, and not damage, France. The parliament of 
Provence cited his holiness to appear before them, and caused 
Avignon to be seized. Anathemas from the Vatican were now 
about as important as the cry of the nursery-maids in England. 
40 years ago to naughty children, Bony is coming / All that being 
changed, the pope — alternately tyrant and slave — was obliged 
to submit, upon the humiliating condition of banishing his 
brother, and sending his nephew, Cardinal Chigi, to apologise 
personally to the king of France; to disband the Corsican 
guard ; and to erect a monument at Rome, explaining the insult 
and the reparation. Farther, as Louis would trample still more 
on the tiara, he forced the court of Rome to relinquish Castro 
and Ronciglione to the Duke of Parma; and obliged the pope 
to make the Duke of Modena satisfaction, relative to his right 
to Comaccio ; gaining, through this insult, the honour of being 
the protector of the Italian states. 

At a grand entertainment at Paris, an emblem had been de- 
vised for the king — a sun darting its rays upon a globe ; the motto 
" Nee pluribus impar," which was highly approved: the king's 
chests of drawers, the furniture of the crown, the tapestry and 
sculpture were all adorned with it. Voltaire defends him from 
the charges brought against his vanity in this matter, as if it had 
been his own invention . As to the device itself, he thinks that 
more open to criticism, because it did not plainly represent what 
the motto signified, which was also wanting in clearness, as it is 
capable of different renderings. Devices are liked when just 
and striking, but better have none than such as are low and 
poor, Louis XII. adopted a hedge-hog, with the words, •' Qui 
s'y frotte, s r y pique," he who touches me pricks himself — like 
the old Latin motto, " Nemo me impune lacessit." 

In the year 1664, at Versailles, a carousal was given of the 
utmost magnificence; the king with 600 of his court attended. 
The first day, those who were to run appeared in a review, pre- 
ceded by a herald at arms, pages and squires, carrying devices 
and bucklers, on which were verses written in gold letters. The 
king exhibited all the diamonds of the crown upon his own dress 
and the trappings of the horse he rode ; the queen, with 300 



106 PAGEANTRY AND PLEASURE. 

ladies seated under triumphal arches beheld his entry. He 
chiefly noticed La Valiere : this entertainment was made for her 
alone, though she was not distinguished from the crowd — hut 
she secretly enjoyed the honour. A gilded chariot was drawn 
along, 18 feet in height, 15 wide, and 24 long, representing the 
chariot of the sun. The golden, the silver, the brazen, and the 
iron ages ; the celestial signs, with the seasons and hours, fol- 
lowed the chariot on foot. Every thing was in character ; shep- 
herds brought in their hands pieces of the pallisades, which they 
placed regularly to the sound of trumpets, to which at intervals 
succeeded the violins and other instruments. One came for- 
ward from the chariot of Apollo, and repeated to the queen 
verses alluding to the place, the persons, and the time. 

The races being finished, and the day ended, 4,000 large flam- 
beaux illuminated the space in which the feast was prepared; 
the tables were served by 200 persons, representing the seasons, 
the fauns, the sylvans and dryads, with shepherds, reapers, and 
grape-gatherers. Pan and Diana appeared upon a moving 
mountain, and descended to place upon the tables the greatest 
rarities the fields and forest produced. In a semicircle behind 
these tables, was raised all at once a theatre covered with musi- 
cians : the arcades which encompassed the tables and the theatre 
were adorned with 500 branches of green and silver, filled with 
wax candles, and the vast enclosure was encompassed with a gilt 
balustrade. These feasts, superior even to those of romance, 
lasted seven days. The king gained the prizes in the games 
four times, and afterwards relinquished them, to be disputed by 
the other knights. As astrology yet had its believers, a piece of 
Moiiere's, intended to expose the absurdities of that science, 
was performed ; a court fool was also introduced. Voltaire says 
the existence of these fools was attributable to the want of 
amusements, and the impossibility of procuring those which 
were polite and agreeable, in times of ignorance ; and bad taste 
alone made them use these wretches. The fool kept by Louis 
was called l'Angeli, and he had formerly belonged to Conde ; it 
was he who said he never went to hear sermons, because he 
hated noisy discourse. Tartuffe was likewise exhibited on this 
occasion ; it is reported to his credit, that, though the king 
followed these amusements with avidity, he let nothing inter- 
fere with his regal duties. 

If the expenses of these entertainments had been wrung 
from the wretched millions, they must have been odious ; but 
the same hand which directed the taste of France supplied the 
people with bread. In 1602 Louis (no enemy to free trade) 
had procured the importation of corn, which was sold to all 
at a very low price, and given to the poor for nothing at the 
gate of the Louvre : he also remitted the payment of 3,000,000 
of taxes. He was enabled, by the excellent management of 



GRANDEUR OF FRANCE. 107 

Colbert, to purchase Dunkirk and Mardyke of the King of Eng- 
land for the. sum of 5,000,000 of livres, to the disgrace of that 
profligate prince, who thought it no shame to sell that for money 
which had cost his people's blood. In pursuance of his splendid 
plans for the exaltation of his country, Louis set 30,000 men to 
work upon the fortifications of Dunkirk, both on the land and 
sea sides ; and between the town and the citadel a large bason 
was formed capable of containing 30 ships of war ; so that this 
place almost at once became formidable. The French king soon 
compelled the Duke of Lorraine to give up to him the strong 
town of Marsal ; and that weak and inconstant prince entered 
into a treaty whereby Lorraine, after his death, was given up to 
the crown of France, upon some inconsiderable pecuniary re- 
compense, and that the princes of the house of Lorraine should 
become princes of the blood of France. 

Louis thus augmented his dominions even in peace. By dis- 
ciplining his troops, whom he had recovered from the irregula- 
rities of the civil wars, and by fortifying his frontiers, he kept 
France always ready for war. Having rendered vast benefits to 
his country by encouraging agriculture, that, under his fostering 
care, had made rapid advances, Colbert now directed his atten- 
tion to the promotion of commerce ; and, in the course of the 
years 1663 & 1664, drew up the plan of two great trading com- 
panies, the one to the East, and the other to the West, Indies. 
To overcome their rooted antipathy to these occupations of 
trade — for a French noble might sooner beg or steal than med- 
dle with commerce — Colbert induced the king to declare that 
all might belong to these companies, without its being deroga- 
tory to their gentility; and the sovereign and his minister 
both joined in the undertaking. The queen, princes, and nobles 
followed — millions of money were clubbed together — the con- 
cerns of these two companies were conducted by directors. To 
their other territorial purchases, Guadaloupe, Martinique, and 
several other islands were added ; settlers were leaving to colo- 
nize to a great extent ; Lower Canada and Quebec were peopled ; 
and an important impulse was given to trade in general from the 
success of the these new companies. 

Ship-building was in consequence encouraged by govern- 
ment rewards ; and, in the train of speculation, followed assur- 
ance societies all over France, governed by a central chamber at 
Paris. France embraced all facilities for manufactures of almost 
every description ; she had during the long wars, and the intes- 
tine commotions, sunk into a wretched state of decay — in short, 
scarcely anything was produced but the coarsest cloth for the 
peasantry. Colbert encouraged the manufacturers to vigorous 
efforts by a large loan without interest; tapestry and carpets at 
Beauvais, Aubusson, and other places, soon were produced, and 
the most splendid fabrics employed thousands of work people. 



108 NATIONAL IMPROVEMENTS. 

The making of looking-glasses, mirrors, &c, larger and finer 
than those from Venice, was promoted in Paris ; the working 
of steel and tin ; the tanning of the finer kinds of leather ; and 
the only stocking-loom then known; were extensively patro- 
nised. Roads were improved ; canals dug or repaired ; and that 
most celebrated work of this kind, extending from Toulouse 
to Thau on the Mediterranean, which called into exercise all 
the known resources of civil engineering, and required the 
creation of 62 sluices, 72 bridges, and 55 aqueducts, was exe- 
cuted with such skill by Pierre Paul Riquet, and so economi- 
cally, as scarcely to have been felt by the people. 

Splendid buildings were erected in Paris, nests of filth were 
removed to make new and noble streets, the city was re-paved 
and lighted, the police was re- constructed with a view to dimi- 
nish the nightly robberies and assassinations which always dis- 
graced that capital; eminent literary and other useful institu- 
tions were founded ; and the criminal and civil law reformed by 
a great and beneficial change in the whole body thereof. In 
addition to these national benefits Louis XIV. threw an air of 
grandeur around his court, eclipsing all the pomp of Europe — 
acting upon the principle that the greatest persons around him 
should receive honour, but not power. So that he settled the 
ancient dispute between the peers and presidents of the parlia- 
ment, in an extraordinary council, that the former should give 
their opinion before the presidents, in the royal presence, as if 
they received this privilege merely from his being there, and left 
the old custom still subsisting in the assemblies where the king 
is not present. Great blue coats, embroidered with gold and 
silver, distinguished the courtiers, so that permission to wear 
such was an enviable honour. The fashion of the day was a 
great coat, with a doublet under it adorned with ribbons ; over 
this great coat, was a belt, at which the sword hung. They wore 
a kind of laced band, and a hat with two rows of feathers ; this 
became the common dress of Europe till 1684, it being, in mat- 
ters of taste, the usual way every where, except in Spain and 
Poland, to copy the court of Louis XIV. He created new posts 
about his person, such as Grand Master of the Wardrobe, and he 
revived the tables instituted by Francis I.; having 12 for the 
officers which ate at court, served with splendid profusion, and 
to which all strangers were invited. The presents bestowed on 
foreigners were so considerable that Viviani built a house at 
Florence with the bounty received from Louis, in front of which 
he had these words put up — "iEdes a Deo datae," in allusion to 
the surname of Dieu-donne, by which the public had called the 
king, on account of his unexpected appearance so many years 
after the marriage of his parents. 

To restrain the power of the house of Austria had ever been 
the policy of France since the days of the Emperor Charles V. 



THE FRENCH NAVY. 109 

Still they considered that, though the Turk should be allowed so 
far to worry the Austrians as to give them occupation enough, it 
would not altogether look well for the most christian king, who, 
by the bye, maintained the standing alliance with the barbarians, 
to let the crescent lord it over the cross. They never therefore 
objected to the occasional invasions of " Mahound and Terma- 
gent," but would not allow him to subdue Hungary. i( Our 
ancient ally," as the Duke of Wellington calls the Turk, just 
now became very troublesome, and had attacked the emperor, 
and sent that able vizier, Kiuperli, to the banks of the Raab. 
Louis sent 6,000 men, as indeed he was bound by treaty, 
under Coligni, a worthy descendant of the admiral, the friend 
and companion of Conde. A famous battle was fought at St. 
Gothard, where the French army greatly distinguished itself, 
in conjunction with the Germans, who also fought bravely; so 
that subsequent disputes arose as to which nation had done 
most to ensure this splendid victory. Secretly Louis abetted 
Portugal in her quarrel with Spain. Marshal Schomberg, a 
Huguenot, went with 4,000 French into Portugal, whom he paid 
with money from the French king, — though he pretended to 
maintain them in the name of the King of Portugal. This aug- 
mentation of the Portuguese forces caused a complete victory to 
be obtained at Villa Viciosa, that settled the crown in the house 
of Braganza. Louis had entered into an alliance with the Dutch 
in 1662, by which he was in strictness bound to join his few 
ships to those of Holland, who had now renewed the war with 
England, on the score of their respective rights to the. commerce 
of the Indies. Voltaire says he declined to fulfil his engage- 
ments, because he loved to see two dangerous powers so nearly 
equipoised ; this may be an adroit retreat for French vanity. 

I suspect there are two conjectures which come much nearer 
the truth — either that he had few or no ships to send, or that 
he knew too well the supremacy which England must attain 
and maintain on the seas, and that to have interfered would 
insure the destruction of his own navy, which that eminent 
French historian allows "was, as yet, of no consequence." 
And he elsewhere confesses that at this time the French " were 
in want of sailors, officers, and, in short, of every thing neces- 
sary to the construction and equipment of shipping." And, 1 
will add, and if they had had all they could require, they would 
have cut no better figure than has generally been the case with 
those lively Gauls on our element. In a parenthesis, I may 
mention a nice little piece of gasconade I met with Hie other 
day in a French obituary of an old naval officer. The writer 
quotes a despatch of the deceased, written at the time our im- 
mortal Nelson was in the Mediterranean, in which he informs 
the government that, being in his frigate of about 50 guns, he 

H 



110 OPDAM AND VAN TROMP. 

caught sight of an English fleet of several ships of war, and im- 
mediately set his sails to chase them; which perceiving, the 
English ran for it to the nearest friendly ports. Such was 
their haste that they parted company, on the principle of devil 
take the hindermost — so that, as the Frenchman could not, of 
course, fight all at once, he tried to engage with two, which he 
followed and insulted in every imaginable manner for six days, 
they each carrying many more guns than the French frigate. — 
Spite of all his efforts, they at length sheered off, and " left him 
alone with his glory !" Toujours Mazagran ! ! 

In 1664, 130 Dutch merchantmen had been captured by the 
English, and acts of hostility had taken place in Guinea, at the 
Cape de Verd, and in the West Indies. The noted De Witt, who 
led the Dutch, looked to France as the ally and protector of 
Holland. And Louis at length felt compelled to act upon the 
treaties subsisting, in consequence of the great naval battle 
between the Dutch fleet, under Opdam and Van Tromp, and 
that of England, under the Duke of York and Prince Rupert, 
on which occasion Opdam was killed, and Tromp with great dif- 
ficulty saved the remains of his disabled ships. At the very time 
an agreement between England and the Bishop of Munster 
called upon that warlike prelate to invade Flanders with 20,000 
men. Louis XIV. now informed the bishop that French troops 
were prepared to contest any hostile movement he should ven- 
ture to make against Holland. The States took a little hope from 
this, for they had been almost reduced to despair by the damage 
to their fleet, the decay of their naval power, the fears from the 
irruption of the Bishop of Munster, and the hitherto suspicious 
quiet of France, all which had tended to lower the party of De 
Witt, while the faction in favour of England proportionally rose. 
Nor was Spain inactive in fermenting disunion between the 
Dutch and her standing enemy, France ; so that (as usual) the 
mob were in Holland excited to violence and adopted the argu- 
ments common with that class — attempts to assassinate De Witt. 

In the meantime France negociated with the cabinet of St. 
James's, and the English craftily lengthened the discussions — 
suggesting hopes of peace, and avoiding a course sufficiently 
strong to drive Louis XIV. to a declaration of war. The latter 
appeared almost unavoidable, and France drew up, for the use 
of the Dutch, a scheme against England, the basis being an 
effort to destroy English commerce by an union of the fleets of 
France and Holland ; and to harass England at home by exciting 
alike the papists and the puritans to renewed endeavours against 
the throne. Sir William Temple, our minister, able as he was, 
suffered himself to be cajoled by the Bishop of Munster, who 
was to have received a large sum of money, as payment for his 
contingent of 20,000 troops. It ended in a miserable short- 



HOLLAND AND ENGLAND. Ill 

coming, soon repulsed by De Witt's brother with none but Dutch 
troops to repel the invaders. The*bishop, however, got a large 
portion of this sum (that proved a vain and injurious outlay 
to England), and then made a separate peace with France and 
Holland. — Before this occurence became known in Britain, the 
godly bishop had nearly succeeded, under a fresh pretence, in 
procuring another large instalment from John Bull, even after 
he had signed the treaties with our enemies ! His villany was 
was detected in time — and only just in time. 

France had been gradually improving her yet inconsiderable 
navy, which, according to Voltaire, in 1664 and 1665, while 
England proudly sailed all over the ocean with 300 large ships 
of war, and Holland had at one time as many, could only call 
her own 15 or 16 third-rate vessels. Under the vigilant care of 
the French government, her ships were now more numerous and 
well equipped ; and they joined the fleet of Holland, in endea- 
vours to dispute with England the dominion of the sea. In 
June, 1666, Van Tromp and De Ruyter again fought the English 
fleet under Monk and Rupert. This formidable engagement 
lasted four days — success or disaster was nearly equal. They 
very shortly again met, and a tremendous conflict took place, that 
completely defeated the Dutch, who had 20 first-rate ships taken 
or sunk, and three admirals and 4,000 men killed. The French 
fleet, under the Duke of Beaufort, could not come up time enough 
to take part. So that Louis could only help forward the unheard- 
of exertions of De Witt, to repair the losses of his country, 
which he warily covered by an affectation of anxiety for peace 
with England. We seem to have been short of our wonted 
shrewdness on this occasion ; for, little suspecting our enemy of 
preparation or audacity, the Dutch suddenly dared to sail up 
the Thames, taking Sheerness, and destroying several ships of 
the line. Many smaller vessels were burnt, and so alarmed were 
the government, as well as the people, that many vessels and 
stores were destroyed by ourselves, while the bold Dutch admi- 
ral bearded England, from the Thames to the Land's-end ! 

A general peace followed, for the drain upon England and 
Holland had made them alike tired of war. Louis made the 
Dutch pay smartly for the assistance he had rendered them, 
charging them for the 6,000 troops he had prepared to check the 
Bishop of Munster, and debited them with the expenses of an 
embassy to England, to negociate their peace with Charles II. ! 
A French writer well observes that succours were never given 
with so ill a grace, nor received less gratefully. 

France now lay upon her oars — a position ill suited to our 
fiery neighbours. It is not a little remarkable that it was then, 
as now, deemed necessary to take out the vent-peg (if, without 
offence, such an allusion to the every day vulgarities of life may 

H? 



112 POWER AND GLORY OF LOUIS. 

be permitted) , that by letting the froth escape, the risk of the ves- 
sel being burst to pieces might be warded off. Algiers was the 
sponge then appointed to suck up the "braves," who had no 
other occupation under Louis XIV., as again Algiers has effec- 
tually and to a fearful extent served for the issue to the French 
constitution under Louis- Philippe. The Duke of Beaufort com- 
manded the French ships against these corsairs, took the fort of 
Gigeri in Africa, and dispersed their piratical forces. 

The troops of Louis had by this time become veterans ; gene- 
rals, formed by actual service, had sprung up in Hungary, Holland 
and Portugal. Louis had now received the assurance of superi- 
ority recorded relative to Spain ; and obtained the satisfaction of 
humbling Rome. Cardinal Chigi had been sent to him as legate, 
when, to render the triumph the greater to France, Chigi under 
a canopy received the compliments of all the superior courts 
and bodies of the city and clergy, entering Paris amidst the roar 
of cannon, having the great Conde on his right hand and his son 
the Duke d'Enghein on his left. He went on purpose to 
humble himself, as the representative of the pope, before the 
French had drawn a sword. France had lowered the crest of the 
Doge of Genoa, who ever afterwards received fewer honours. 

Louis XIV. no longer beheld a potentate whom he feared : he 
was relieved of all anxieties from England, lately devastated by 
the plague. That had been followed by the fire of London (the 
perpetration of which, it was then the fashion to debit to the 
running account with the Roman Catholics). These calamities, 
with the shameful prodigality of that most infamous monarch 
Charles II., had so completely distracted our country as to 
leave Louis in security as regarded us. The emperor had not 
yet recovered himself since the last formidable attacks of the 
Turks; and Philip IV. of Spain was in a languishing state of 
body — his monarchy as feeble as himself. Thus we behold this 
young monarch on the pinnacle of human pride : of a personal 
character remarkably mixed up of virtues and vices — the latter 
sadly predominating. His love of glory, fatal as that principle 
is in general found, now instrumental even to the security and 
welfare of that active people, who have ever thought more of 
glory than solid welfare. Would that Louis had known the 
practise of virtue for its own sake, and instead of that vicious 
hankering after applause that seems to have been his sole bias 
to follow that which is good — he might have known the real 
enjoyment resulting from the praise attendant on good actions. 
His character might have been modest, in no sense incompatible 
with real greatness ; and he might have delighted in the highest 
motives which can be inspired by virtue and religion. 



DEATH OF PHILIP IY. 113 



SECTION III. 



Death of Philip IV. — Louis' pretensions — Louvois promoted — Several 
towns in Flanders besieged — Rapid conquests — Conde recalled to public 
life — Consultations of De Witt, Temple, and De Dhona — Peace dictated 
by the Dutch — Also between Spain and Portugal — Cassimir, King of 
Poland, descends voluntarily from the throne — Death of Beaufort — Base- 
ness of Charles II. — A new harlot presented to the king of England — 
Awful death of Henrietta — Continental supineness — Respect due to 
Holland — Splendid condition of the French army — Mercantile spirit of 
the Dutch — Passage of the Rhine — The sons of Abraham offer bribes 
for protection — Determination of the Dutch — Solbay — Vile and cruel 
ingratitude of the people to the De Witts — Little credit therein to the 
Prince of Orange — Errors of Louis — Europe begins to rouse up — 
Perils of the French — Weakness of Leopold — The eminent engineer 
Vauban — Young Churchill (afterwards Duke of Marlborough) — Lorraine 
overrun — Luxembourg driven out of Flanders — The English murmur 
at the perfidy of Charles II. — Sufferings in Franche-Comte — Battle of 
Seneff — France in danger for want of soldiers — Turenne and Monte- 
cuculi — Death of Turenne — Of Conde — And of Montecuculi — Mon- 
sieur succeeds in a battle, to the chagrin of Louis XIV. — De Ruyter's 
mortal wound — Treaties of peace — Designs of France — Strasbourg — 
Casal given up to the French — The Genoese — Colbert's success — John 
Sobieski, King of Poland — Fresh seizures on the part of Louis — Death 
of Charles II. of England — Accession of James II.— Disgusting conduct 
of the Church of England — Remonstrances of Rouvigny to Louis XIV. 
Description and History of the Edict of Nantes — Infamous cruelty of 
Louis, the ministers and clergy — Revocation of the Edict — Christian 
liberality of a late archbishop of Can terbury — Louis' increasing " glory'* 
— Persecution of the Vaudois — Religious differences. 

If yet wanted, to the satisfaction of Louis' ambition to signalise 
himself as a conqueror, opportunity soon arose. Philip IV., 
his father-in-law, at the age of 60, died September 17, 1665. 
As my reader has seen, Louis had married Philip's daughter 
by his first wife, sister of Louis XIII., by which marriage Maria- 
Theresa conveyed the Spanish monarchy into the house of Bour- 
bon, so long its enemy. At the close of the inglorious career 
of this weak and effeminate monarch, he left a son, Charles II., 
the heir to his throne. One would have thought that no claims 
whatsoever could be put forth by the French king to any part of 
the territory held by Philip ; especially as the young queen of 
France had formally renounced all contingent rights to the terri- 
tories of her father, and male succession alone had been rccog- 



114 THE CELEBRATED LOUVOIS. 

nized since the reign of Charles V. But Louis pretended that, 
maugre her renunciation, Flanders and Franche-Comte ought 
to revert to his wife. He directed his pretensions to be exa- 
mined by his council, and by some divines — who, of course, 
found them incontestable. But they were found quite the con- 
trary by the council and confessor of Philip the Fourth's widow, 
who produced on her own behalf an express law of Charles V. 
in favour of the other side. It should also in fairness be 
stated that Maria- Theresa made the renunciation expressly in 
consideration of a dowry not yet paid, the periods of the in- 
stalments having long passed away. And there does certainly 
appear to be something farther in the argument that the chil- 
dren of a second marriage (she had neither brother nor sister 
by her mother) could not inherit fiefs, as, whether male or 
female, those of the first marriage shut them out. The Spa- 
niards had recourse to a very odd answer, as to the charge that 
the dowry had not been paid, and said that that of Maria-The- 
resa's mother, Elizabeth of Bourbon, had never been paid by 
France. But all amounted to the case of the wolf and the lamb : 
a decision by argument of w T hat ought to be was not what France 
wanted, — she desired possession of the disputed territories, and 
that with the eclat of conquest, rather than through signatures 
upon parchment. Depending more upon his troops than his 
tropes, Louis marched into Flanders at the head of 35,000 men, 
with Turenne acting as general under his own eye. Colbert had 
multiplied the resources ; Louvois, the new minister, having 
made immense preparations for the campaign. 

Francois le Tellier, Marquis of Louvois, was son of the 
famous Michael le Tellier, who had early introduced him into 
public life. At first he was a profligate, neglecting his busi- 
ness, and pursuing all kinds of debauchery; this at length being 
noticed by the king, he endeavoured to hide his iniquities, and 
applied himself with greater attention to his duties. In 1666, 
the father became chancellor, and Louvois was made secretary 
of state. He now assiduously followed official employments, as 
before he had shrunk from their discharge ; and, addicted to look 
with jealousy on all who stood in his way, he formed to himself 
an enemy in Colbert, whose love of peace opposed his own pur- 
poses, and whose estimation, by king and people, was wormwood 
and gall both to father and son. Thus, while Colbert opposed 
the injustice of Louis, relative to invading Flanders, in which he 
was joined by Turenne ; Louvois and his father urged forward 
that move, and were aided by the impetuosity of the young 
king, who disregarded the dangers the more prudent advisers 
suggested — principally based on the jealousy of the European 
powers — the risks of so wild a course, and the checking of that 
remarkable prosperity which was now crowning all their efforts 



THE POWER OF LOUIS. 115 

at the internal regeneration of France. These and many other 
sensible objections, on the part of the first general and the 
ablest minister, were overruled by the craft of Louvois working 
- on the martial penchant of the king. Seeing the evil, Colbert 
and Turenne joined in endeavours to obviate the mischiefs of 
protracted war, by hastening as much as possible the expected 
conquest. To the praise of Louvois it must be accorded that 
he made wonderful preparations for the campaign ; and, unlike 
former cases, wherever the king turned, he found succours and 
subsistence ready, the quarters for the troops marked out, and 
their marches regulated. Discipline was strictly enforced ; mili- 
tary preferment began to be looked upon as more important 
than birth ; and services, not families, to be regarded. 

Louis had now the best troops of Europe. With all these 
advantages, he had his mother-in-law to oppose, who was ruled 
by her confessor, a German priest, father Nitard, whom she had 
made prime minister. Equally unfit for each office, and bringing 
to the priesthood only a large accession of the common qualities, 
pride and ambition — he told the Duke of Lerma one day that he 
ought to respect him, for he had his God in his hands, and his 
queen at his feet, every day ! Nitard had no genius for command, 
and had adopted no measures of national protection. Fortifi- 
cations fallen into ruin, a treasury without money, ports without 
ships, troops without discipline, officers ill-paid — and those in- 
competent — was all he had prepared to oppose an enemy who 
as much excelled in these particulars as Spain was deficient. 
Fortifications were then not so well understood and made use of 
in Flanders as in after days ; so that Louis had but to present 
himself before Charleroi, Ath, Tournay, Fumes, Armentiers, 
Courtrai, Donai, Lisle. This town stood a short siege, and a 
characteristic trait of the politeness of the olden time may be 
mentioned. The governor after the proper steps for defence, 
sent to compliment Louis on his arrival, and to request to be 
informed where the royal quarters were, that he might take care 
the guns were not pointed in that direction! It gave Louis a 
good opportunity of acknowledging the courtesy, and of making 
a reply which answered well his purpose — that in the French 
camp the king's quarters were every where. The Spaniards had 
but .8,000 men to oppose to the victorious French army. 

Their rear was attacked and soon cut to pieces by Crequi; 
the remainder flying to Mons and Brussels ; as Voltaire remarks, 
leaving the king of France a conqueror without fighting. So that 
it looked as if the court were making a tour for diversion: 
pleasures of every kind going along with the camp, even while 
discipline was on the increase. Turenne for a long time had 
taken his food off iron plates; Marshal d'Humieres was the 
first who, at Arras, in 1C58, had been served in silver, having 



116 RAPID CONQ.UESTS OF THE FRENCH. 

ragouts and entremets served up to his table. Of course on 
this occasion the splendour- loving king caused numerous fresh 
conveniences and comforts to go along with the army. 

The rapidity of their conquests filled Brussels with alarm ; 
the citizens began to move their effects to Antwerp ; and had 
Louis had troops enough to garrison the towns he took, which 
surrendered in all directions, the conquest of Flanders had been 
the work of but a single campaign. Louis treated his move- 
ments as merely taking possession of the territories of his 
queen, w T ho, though she had been left as regent, now followed 
him with her court, to be received as sovereign by the various 
places Louis had taken. Maria-Theresa assured the authorities 
there of a continuation of such privileges as they had ever en- 
joyed under the house of Burgundy. The noted Vauban was 
directed to construct fortifications, according to his own plans, 
w r hich have become the models for all following eminent engi- 
neers : he himself was made governor of Lisle. And now the 
king, leaving Turenne to proceed as he best might, hastened to 
return and receive the acclamations of his people, the adulation 
of his courtiers and mistresses, and to enjoy the pleasures of the 
court. When Louis was setting out on this campaign, he or- 
dered Racine and Boileau to follow him. They, however, pre- 
ferring the society of Paris, and their literary pursuits, to the 
tumults of war, remained at home. At his return the king up- 
braided the two poets for having neglected to proceed according 
to his instructions. " Sire," said one of them (probably Boi- 
leau), with the flattery which all of his age and profession were 
accustomed to use to le Grand Monarque, " We had no clothes 
fit for the journey; we ordered some, but your majesty took the 
towns so much faster than the tailor made our clothes that the 
campaign was finished before we could arrive V 

In the midst of the severity of January 1668, it burst like a 
thunder-clap upon the world that troops were marching on all 
sides, and in all directions through Champagne ; trains of artil- 
lery and ammunition-wagons appeared, under various pretences, 
moving towards Burgundy, which part was all in a ferment, and 
yet the reason not known. Neighbouring nations looked un- 
easily on ; and suspicions agitated Germany. 

On February 2, Louis, with the son of Conde, left Paris; 
also some courtiers and officers of his army: they soon arrived 
at Dijon. And 20,000 men appeared simultaneously in Franche- 
Comte, not far from Besancon, headed by Conde, having Boute- 
ville for lieutenant-general, who, through evil and through good 
report, maintained his attachment to the great general. Bouteville 
was now Duke of Luxembourg, and employed by the king for 
his merits in the science of war rather than from personal attach- 
ment. To understand the appearance of Conde again it should be 



TURENNE AND LOUVOIS. 117 

told that, during the progress of the march through Flanders, the 
insufferable egotism of Louvois the younger had so annoyed Tu- 
renne that, though he long treated him with silent contempt, at 
length the general's temper gave way, and he sharply rebuked 
the young minister. Louvois' habit of interfering with the mili- 
tary arrangements of every French general is well known. On one 
occasion, Turenne had just returned to Versailles, and was about 
shortly to set out again for the army in Alsace, to recommence 
hostilities. Louvois was urging him, in the presence of Louis, to 
cross the Rhine at a place pointed out on a map he spread out 
before him. Turenne said that Louvois' scheme was imprac- 
ticable. " How so ? " said the haughty minister ; " why cannot 
you cross the Rhine there ? " " I could do so, M. de Louvois," 
said the veteran calmly, " if your finger were a bridge" 

Louvois in anger determined to bring back the Prince of 
Conde to public life, who ever since his shameful rebellion, 
though so far forgiven by the king as to have been well received 
at court, yet had not been so far forgotten as to be trusted with 
the command of armies again. It is thought Conde was jealous 
of the reputation of Turenne, and had suggested to Louvois the 
scheme of taking Franche-Comte during this winter, in quicker 
time than it had taken Turenne to overrun Flanders, that there- 
by Louis might be the more detached from that wise general; 
and, nattered by the success of Conde and the talents of Louvois, 
might the more forward their ambition. Franche-Comte was 
exceedingly fruitful and populous, being 40 leagues long and 
20 broad. It was more under Spain in the way of looking to 
that monarchy for protection, than oppressed by the Spaniards 
as masters ; the rights of the people were greatly respected at 
Madrid, so that they were under a gentle dominion, and in 
consequence greatly attached to their sovereigns. Though in 
money poor, the people were prosperous and happy; and, as 
there was much of the freedom of a republic about them, there 
were parties even among those who had so little cause for dis- 
satisfaction. The gold of France soon was employed to gain 
many of the inhabitants, particularly an abbe, John de Batte- 
ville, brother of that Spanish ambassador, at London, who had 
insulted D'Estrades in the street, He had formerly been an 
officer, then a Carthusian, afterwards a Turk, and at last an 
ecclesiastic. He was promised to be made grand-dean, and other 
good things in that mother with many teats, the church. The 
governor's nephew was also corrupted, and the governor himself 
was not inflexible ; and several counsellors of parliament (like 
our M.P.s) were bought cheap. So soon as matters were ripe, 
Besan?on, the capital, was invested by Conde, while Luxem- 
bourg appeared before Salins. The next day both places capi- 
tulated, when all that the degraded authorities stipulated for 



118 DEGRADATION OF SWITZERLAND. 

was preservation of a holy shroud, thus highly revered by these 
besotted creatures. The French, I need scarcely say, were wise 
enough to make no difficulty on this head. 

On the king's arrival at Dijon he was agreeably informed of 
the capture of these two places. He personally advanced to Dole ; 
the town readily surrendered, at least after a four days' siege, 
during which the king rather exhibited the dignity of a monarch 
in his court than the ardour of a general. Instead of showing the 
impetuosity of Francis I. or Henry IV., he prudently remained 
at his own quarters, leaving others, to whom it more properly be- 
longed, to precipitate themselves into danger. Dole witnessed 
his public entry twelve days after his departure from St. Ger- 
main's, and, within three weeks, all Franche-Comte was subject 
to Louis. So astonished and incensed were the council of Spain 
at the little resistance which was made, that they wrote to the 
governor, " that the King of France, instead of going in person, 
might as well have sent his lacqueys to take possession of the 
province." The success of these schemes startled all Europe ; 
the empire was in motion from the raising of troops ; the Switz 
" trembled for their liberty." This nation who in all ages has 
held itself ready to be hired to do the work of blood, and whe- 
ther for good or evil, so long as well paid, has been the vile tool 
of indiscriminate tyrants — indifferent as to the destruction or the 
establishment of that liberty for which these mercenary hirelings 

profess so much reverence faugh ! The remainder of 

Flanders was to be invaded in the spring ; the Dutch, having 
been so anxious to have the French as friends, now dreaded 
them as neighbours. 

Spain, who in ancient pride had sneered at this mercantile 
republic, now gladly sought protection from this little nation. 
John de Witt, the able grand pensionary, thought more of the 
liberties of his country than his own grandeur, and although 
numbered with the most powerful monarchs, in accordance with 
republican simplicity, he had only one maid and one man servant, 
and upon all occasions walked on foot through the streets of the 
Hague. He contracted a real friendship (not common among 
ministers of state) for our ambassador, Sir William Temple; 
who, on his part a philosopher and patron of literature, loved 
Holland because it was free ; and although reproached as an 
atheist, was a good citizen and wise republican. The Swedish 
ambassador, De Dhona, consulted with these to stop the alarm- 
ing progress of the king of France, and in the short space of 
five days a treaty was concocted to put a stop to the ambition of 
Louis XIV. On his part, Louis affected contempt at the daring 
of a little state like Holland to think of checking a great mo- 
narch ; but, at length, finding that this coalition was likely to 
attain its object, he himself proposed to open conferences at 



CELEBRITY OF THE FRENCH MINISTERS. 119 

Aix-la-Chapelle. Clement IX. was appointed mediator, he 
therefore sent a nuncio to the congress. The despised Dutch 
refused to follow this course, and insisted on their ambassador 
Van Beunning treating personally with Louis and that which was 
then agreed on was forwarded to Aix-la-Chapelle to be formally 
signed. The determined tone of Van Beunning greatly chafed 
the mighty monarch, whose imperious grandeur, Voltaire in- 
forms us, was shocked at every turn. Nor would Beunning's re- 
publican inflexibility submit to the tone of superiority assumed by 
France and Spain. In short, continues that celebrated writer, a 
peace was concluded in an authoritative manner by a burgomaster 
at the court of the most superb of monarchs, by which the king 
of France was obliged to restore Franche-Comte. This pacified 
the mass of complainants, although the Dutch would gladly 
have torn the Low Countries from his grasp. Louis was aware 
he did better by keeping Flanders, whence he conceived plans to 
destroy Holland at the very time he appeared to comply with 
all its demands. 

Great praise is generally awarded to the dexterity of Lionne, 
Louvois, and d'Estrades, who, steering between the influence of 
Holland and Spain, brought about an arrangement so palpably 
advantageous for France. However, in the teeth of French in- 
fluence, a treaty of peace was signed Feb. 13, 1668, between 
Portugal and Spain, by which the former was at length declared 
a free nation. Europe was scandalised by an extraordinary and 
shameful scene, in connexion with the youthful queen of Don 
Alphonso : she was daughter of that Duke of Nemours whose 
tragical death in a barbarous duel I have recorded at p. 55. Her 
husband, a miserable specimen of royalty, was furious in dis- 
position, and brutal in his practises. So that his consort felt it 
necessary to employ sufficient tact to maintain that power which 
descended to him from the happy Don John of Braganza ; until 
she fell in love with Don Pedro his brother, when she formed the 
design to dethrone her husband and espouse her lover. Her 
plea was his incompetence, which in correspondence between 
Mde. de Montpensier and the queen, is handled in too naked a 
manner to sully these pages. But it was notoriously a false plea, 
for the wretched man kept a mistress by whom he had had a 
child, which was publicly acknowledged ; and had long cohabited 
with the queen, according to her own contradictory confessions 
at another time. But, to the disgrace of the pope, he listened 
readily to her request for a dispensation for the shameless act, 
the detail of which infamy is attributed to the Cardinal d'Estrees. 
This abominable and somewhat singular case produced, however, 
no effect on the condition of Europe. 

The example given by Queen Christina of descending from 
a throne was now followed by John Cassimir, King of Poland, 



120 SIEGE OF CANDIA. 

who having been wearied and disgusted by the annoyances of 
governing, and anxious to enjoy a little peace at last, chose the 
abbey of St. Germain's as a retreat. He had been a Jesuit and a 
cardinal before he was taken up to a throne : viewing each posi- 
tion as alike hollow, he only desired to temain in philosophical 
retirement : so that he repudiated the title of majesty. 

A matter of weightier concern now occupied public atten- 
tion. The Turks, if they were less formidable than in the days 
of Francis I., were still strong enough to give considerable un- 
easiness to Christian princes, and they had now in great force 
been besieging Candia for two years, The day had passed when 
enthusiasm could be so worked up as to incite hundreds of thou- 
sands to run wild after the wretched conquests in " the holy 
land." This pretty clearly was proved by the indifference with 
which Christians suffered the reputed bulwalk of Christendom, 
Candia, to be overpowered by 60,000 Turks ; for, except a few 
Roman galleys, and those of Malta, this minute republic had 
little but the cross to hold up against the crescent. Venice was 
no match for the brave and clever grand vizier Kiuperli, who, 
heading formidable forces, at the same time had excellent engi- 
neers. Louis sent 7,000 men by the new vessels he had been 
building at Toulon, under Beaufort, to Candia. To the praise 
of a private gentleman's gallantry, I must tell my reader that La 
Feuillade brought 300 gentlemen to the relief of Candia at his 
own expense. Had this honourable example been followed, 
Candia might have been saved — as it turned out, it only pro- 
duced the shedding of unnecessary blood. In a sally, the Duke 
of Beaufort was killed ; and Candia, now almost a heap of ruins, 
was entered through a capitulation by Kiuperli. The Turks in 
this siege equalled the Christians in military art : the largest 
cannon Europe had ever seen were cast in their camp ; they 
now drew parallel lines in the trenches ; and, while an Italian 
engineer supplied this knowledge, Europe acquired it there. 
Voltaire shows they were capable of conquering the whole of 
Italy, and in time would have done so, but that, under bad gene- 
rals, weak monarchs, and a vicious system of government, they 
fell from the formidable position they once held. And we, living 
a century later, have witnessed the paralyzing effects of despo- 
tism in reducing the once powerful monarchies of Spain, and other 
old countries, till they have sunk beneath contempt. 

By all or any means, it was imperative on Louis to detach 
Holland from England, as Flanders would drop completely into 
the hands of France deprived of that support. Charles was lost 
to all sense of honour — indeed in all probability he never knew 
the feeling. Neither indignation, nor a desire to prevent similar 
calamities, seem to have troubled him relative to the national in- 
sult, as well as damage, resulting from the burning of the British 



SHAME OF HENRIETTA. 121 

ships by the Dutch. Pleasure was his sole pursuit, and to make 
any use of such an unprincipled king it was only necessary to 
minister to his profligacy. Being restrained in some measure 
by his parliament in the securing of funds, Louis well knew the 
golden key which would open the heart of this disgrace to his 
country, albeit he could not easily disgrace his family. 

Therefore Louis promised him a large sum of money, which 
he could now raise at command (oh ! to be in this respect like 
him), and it was arranged that Henrietta, the wife of Mon- 
sieur, and sister of Charles II., should be the bearer of a secret 
treaty, whereby the English king became a pensioner on France, 
and engaged to make war with the Dutch. Only a few days 
before, he had signed other treaties directly in the teeth of 
this — well knowing of the purport of the visit of his sister ! 
Amidst the rejoicings and festivity which took place at Dovor, 
in consequence of the arrival of Charles to meet his sister, now 
become Duchess of Orleans, little did this " most thinking 
people " (risum teneatis?) think of their degradation in submit- 
ting to such a king, who was there for the purpose of putting 
the finishing stroke to the most disgraceful proceeding in the 
English annals. However, the sister — almost as profligate as 
that brother who ought never to be mentioned without a hiss of 
hatred — spent a few days with Charles, and presented him with 
Madame Querouailles, another royal harlot for the seraglio of 
our monarch. If our king was sold to work all uncleanness 
with greediness, and the national honour tarnished by his per- 
fidy, and her interests endangered by the severance of those 
treaties with Holland which manifestly tended to the good of 
the country, we could solace ourselves that, with the importation 
of every ancient vice, our sovereign could teach us to practise it 
in " the newest kind of ways." We had got rid of an usurper, 
of moral worth, it is true, and undaunted courage, who well un- 
derstood England's interests, and nobly maintained her honour ; 
under whom the country passed on to a degree of freedom and 

prosperity she had never before known but then he was 

not the legitimate monarch ! I forgot — I am answered. But, as 
history does justice to most public characters, and relative to 
these two has not neglected her function, I could not help call- 
ing my reader's attention to the heavy cost of this said fine-spun 
article — legitimacy. The lady whom Louis made Charles a pre- 
sent of — as in modern days we hear of a splendid steed, or 
remarkable animal, sent over for our queen's acceptance by a 
foreign potentate — reached the dignity of duchess, in the unsul- 
lied ermine of the British peerage, under the name of our most 
important sea-port town, Portsmouth. 

It is an awful contemplation that sudden death shortly fol- 
lowed that transaction, which must so gall and fret every reflect- 



122 FRIGHTFUL DEATH OF 

ing Englishman. Madame, at the age of 26, herself " the life, 
the grace, and the ornament of society/ 7 either was taken off 
in the most appalling manner by an imposthume in her liver, or 
fell a victim to poison. The Chevalier de Lorraine, her great 
favourite, was also beloved by Madame de Coatquen, a beautiful 
lady of the household of the Duchess of Orleans, who was beset 
by Turenne, an enamoured youth of 60 ! Honourable as was 
his character — true as steel, except on this one weak point — he 
suffered the lady to extract from him this great state secret, 
which had been entrusted to none but Louvois and himself. 
Madame de Coatquen told Lorraine ; he let it all out to the hus- 
band of Madame ; who, vexed at not being trusted by his royal 
brother, and irritated at the conduct of his lady, made such a 
stir as eventually caused Lorraine for a time to be imprisoned, 
and some others to be banished. Peace was in some sort res- 
tored with her consort, and it was agreed they should be toge- 
ther at St. Cloud : to this end they proceeded thither on the 
24th June : for two days she appeared rather unwell. On the 
29th she was better, and it became known that she had had an 
interview with the duke, her husband, which occasioned great 
irritation and mutual bitterness. Gulping down her vexation, 
she dined, and afterwards reposed on some cushions, till, during 
her sleep, her countenance suddenly changed. She awoke, drank 
a glass of succory water, was seized with instantaneous pains, and 
put to bed, where her agonies rapidly encreased ; and, requesting 
her confessor might be sent for, Henrietta avowed she was 
dying. The king and the royal family repaired to her bedside, 
but, alas ! by then, she lay almost in the pangs of death, pale 
as a corpse — her hair dishevelled. Yet, such was the suspici- 
ous brutality of many of those around her that they moved 
with heartless noise and bustle about her very bed-room; the 
family physician seemed inert, and the king himself was the 
sole person who made any effort. A little before her death, she 
reproached the Marchioness de Coatquen with the miseries she 
had caused — when that truly French lady could only reply with 
a flood of tears, and a quotation from Venceslas I 

J'allois j'etois l'amour a sur moi tant d'empire, 

Je m'egare, madame, et ne puis que vous dire 

which means (if it mean any thing) a confused and stammering 
avowal of love having caused her to perpetrate this mischief, 
and now preventing her from suitable expressions. The duchess 
received the sacrament, and at half-past two, June 30, 1672, 
departed this life in inexpressible torments. Europe in general 
believed she was poisoned; all men shrugged their shoulders, 
and looked to the duke her husband, knowing how much reason 
he had to live on ill terms with his wife. While the unhappy lady 



THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 123 

was declaring in his presence that she was a murdered woman, 
he was attentively watched, and showed no shrinking ; and he 
caused some of the succory water to be given to a dog. 

With better grounds, suspicion was attached to the Countess 
of Soissons. The Duke of St. Simon, in his memoirs, charges 
the Duke of Lorraine with the horrid deed, and mentions one 
of the domestics of the Orleans' family as the hand that mixed 
the poison. Voltaire says that one of his fellow servants told 
him " this man, who had not been rich, withdrew immediately 
afterwards into Normandy, where he bought an estate, on which 
he lived in splendour a long time." So far it may look like 
identification, but the evidence is rather weakened by the ridi- 
culous sequel: — "the poison," he added, "was powder of dia- 
monds mixed, instead of sugar, with strawberries I" The glass 
of succory water was not poisoned — as, before the duke gave 
some innocuously to the dog, Madame de la Fayette and ano- 
ther drank of it. It is true that the English ambassador 
believed her to have been poisoned — the French court, and in 
short, every body else: but Voltaire seems rather inclined to 
the idea that her melancholy end was attributed to frequent 
miscarriages, and one most dreadful delivery. He thinks the 
husband ought to have the benefit of his character, which 
neither before nor after was clouded by any very wicked action, 
as criminals are seldom found who have perpetrated only one 
great crime. Turenne's weakness was the first cause of these 
vexatious reports, but he nobly confessed his folly to the king, 
whose resentment was kindled against Louvcis, the great con- 
queror's bitter enemy — rather than witness any injustice which 
he could prevent. The sad fate of the sister of the king of 
England caused no rupture between the two countries. A year 
afterwards, the Princess Palatine succeeded the unfortunate 
Henrietta as wife of Monsieur. To enable her to marry him, it 
was necessary for the princess to renounce Calvinism, for which 
she always preserved a secret respect. She became mother of 
the Duke of Orleans, regent of the kingdom. 

Louis now took possession of Lorraine, under a pretext that 
Duke Charles was trying to form alliances which might be 
prejudicial to France! This district was soon subdued, and 
its possession was in accordance with the secret and infamous 
treaty between France and England, which had arranged the 
division of the spoils, the more readily anticipated from the 
dormant state of Europe in general, for the emperor had his 
hands full by reason of seditions in Hungary. Sweden was 
lulled asleep by negociations ; and Spain, always a slow coach, 
was now additionally heavy by her miserable government and 
crippled condition. So that, as the degraded monarch of Britain 
was bought, as we familiarly say, Louis XIV. now had it all his 



124 ENGLAND, HOLLAND, AND FRANCE. 

own way. To add to the difficulties of the Dutch, they were 
distracted between the two factions with which they had long 
been rent; and while the lovers of liberty were ably headed by 
John, and his brother Cornelius, De Witt, the more moderate 
republicans were for re-instating the young Prince of Orange, 
who already exhibited considerable ability, and afterwards be- 
came so celebrated as William III. 

The latter party now seemed to gain upon the other, and 
their own internal dissensions contributed materially to the 
danger which otherwise threatened this wise, industrious, and 
brave people. The French king had also secured the Elector of 
Cologne. As I have just said, Sweden, to whom the Dutch had 
formerly looked (nor had they looked in vain), was asleep, nor 
could she be roused to interpose in fresh quarrels. The Bishop 
of Munster viewed his crosier as a hook wherewith to catch 
spoils, and equally delighted in blood and gold — so he was 
found tractable to the arguments of the stronger side. Of all 
these unwarranted enemies, there was not one who had even 
a pretence for molesting Holland. Feeling this, the States- 
general, in great agitation, wrote to Louis XIV., respectfully 
enquiring whether or not all this vast preparation was designed 
against them — and in what they had offended ? He haughtily 
replied (like our modern Duke of Newcastle, with his regi- 
ments of voters), that he should do what he pleased with his 
own troops. However, his ministers expressed displeasure at 
Van Beunning's having dared to cause a medal to be struck, 
representing the rich burgomaster himself, with a sun, and these 
words, — " In conspectu meo stetit sol." Now, Louis' favourite 
device (see p. 105) being a sun, this was construed into a vaunt 
that, when at Paris, the plain burgomaster had humbled the 
proud king. But such a medal never existed. The States-general 
had certainly caused a rather flaunty affair to be struck, on 
occasion of the last peace, which really was beneath the notice 
of any nation, and sinned against nothing but— good taste. 

The complaints of England were more rational. Being, as I 
trust she ever will be — Queen of the Ocean, she complained 
justly at their not lowering the Dutch flag before an English 
ship. Had we been blessed with a continuation of the spirit 
of Cromwell in succeeding rulers, this would never have been 
otherwise ; nor should we have witnessed, the disgraceful diffi- 
culties in the way of putting down that crying abomination, the 
slave trade, that so annoy and distress the philanthropist. — 
The Dutch, too, had offended England by what may really be 
allowed reasonable self-gratulations on the success of some of 
their conflicts with us. The greatest naval power the world ever 
saw, we could have afforded them that mite ; though, after the 
question of naval dominion, or supremacy, was for ever settled, 



PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 125 

we were justified in requiring them, or any other nation, to 
touch their hats to us en jjassant. If the Dutch, reminiscent of 
their long and well maintained glory, could hardly bring them- 
selves at once to pay this tribute to us, on the other hand, no 
one can imagine that the wretched pensioner on the bounty of 
France, now sullying the British throne, cared one straw for 
these matters. All he wanted was something of an excuse for 
his wanton and barefaced treachery, and therefore thought any 
stick was good enough to beat a dog with. 

These formidable preparations to destroy this little nation — 
to break this fly upon a wheel — these surpassing efforts made 
by Louis — find no parallel in history, at least when the means 
and the end are compared. Enormous sums of money were 
provided by Colbert ; the French sent 30 ships of 50 guns each 
(we thus incidentally see how busy they had been in ship build- 
ing) to join the English fleet of 100 sail. Louis and his brother 
appeared on the frontiers of Spanish Flanders, near Maestricht, 
at the head of 112,000 men; the pious Bishop of Munster and 
the Elector of Cologne commanded 20,000. Vauban attended 
to manage the sieges ; Turenne and Conde were the generals, 
under them the Duke of Luxembourg commanded. Louvois 
hovered about every where ; and, whether we look at the assem- 
blage of military talent, the general discipline of the army, 
the judicious preparations made; or the gallant appearance 
of the household troops ; they formed at once an object of ad- 
miration to the beholder, and a source of terror to that noble 
little republic against whom they were so wantonly marching. 
Of these household troops, there were four, each containing 
300 gentlemen, 200 light horse, 200 gendarmes, 500 musque- 
teers — all picked gentlemen, in the flower of their youth, 
covered with gold and silver. The French troops had been 
reduced to great discipline under Martinet, who had intro- 
duced the bayonet, and had adopted copper boats to go with an 
army. So celebrated was he that his name will go down to all 
generations as symbolical of formality : and to him we allude 
when, hearing a formal clergyman, pedantic scholar, solemn 
physician, or other tiresome disciplinarian, we peevishly exclaim, 
" He is a regular Martinet!" Imitating the vain glory of 
Charles V., the king carried Felisson with him as historian of 
his victories, nor were his allowed abilities the less esteemed 
because he knew how to mix flattery with his records. 

On this occasion the mercantile spirit of the Dutch had pre- 
viously led them to sell all sorts of commodities to their ene- 
mies; so that, taking advantage of this love of cumulation, 
Louvois almost on the spot found all necessaries, without the 
trouble of bringing them thither. Voltaire says it is little to be 
wondered at, as they have ever sold to their enemies, even in 



126 THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 

the hottest campaigns. It is well known that a merchant of 
Holland, to a remonstrance of Prince Maurice, for carrying on 
such a trade, replied — " My lord, if it were possible, by sea, to 
drive a profitable trade with hell, I would venture to go and 
burn my sails there I" Alas that commerce, which might be so 
honourable, should almost invariably lower the standard of high 
feeling ! It is much easier to inveigh against the distaste of a 
high aristocracy to trade than to wonder at its existence. 

Hasty levies were now made by the Dutch, and their for- 
tresses underwent repair. They pretended to levy 70,000 men, 
while in fact the army is understood scarcely to have amounted 
to 25,000. But had 70,000 been raised, in what respect could 
raw soldiers compete with the now disciplined veterans of 
France, and the fearful array of its allies ? The grand pensionary 
was doubtless a brave spirit, and a lover of his country, the intel- 
ligent of whom will always revere his memory. But De Witt's 
party of course fell off, as his favourite plan of alliance with 
Louis had turned out so disastrously ; and the Orange section 
became strengthened by the quick succession of adhesions 
gained ; for six out of seven provinces may now be assigned to 
the interests of the young prince. On his part he offered to 
mediate with Charles II. (William married Mary, daughter of 
the Duke of York, afterwards James II.), provided the States 
would constitute him stadtholder. That was refused, but he was 
appointed captain-general of the forces, with the very reluctant 
consent of De Witt. Of a cold, phlegmatic temper, this prince 
was neither deficient in penetration, nor wanting in activity. Of 
a naturally feeble constitution, he was sustained by undaunted 
courage ; and, while he was ambitious without pride, his very 
phlegmatic qualities led to patience under adversity ; and, at- 
tached to business-like views of all matters, he never was ad- 
dicted to the pleasures attending upon greatness. He made 
unsuccessful overtures to the King of England ; and, as the peril 
increased, the States conferred upon William the additional rank 
of Admiral. De Witt's opposition to this gained only a decree 
that the annexation of the rank of stadtholder should be im- 
practicable. The republicans virtually thrown down, the defences 
of Holland so wretched as we have seen, and the only expected 
aid from Spain tardily arriving and insignificant in numbers, 
what a contrast with the condition of the invaders ! 

W 7 illiam could not stop the destroying torrent of his ene- 
mies, who now suddenly fell upon his devoted country. While 
the miserable Duke of Lorraine attempted to revenge his own 
affronts by an union of some forces with the sturdy republic, 
the whole of Lorraine was overrun by the gigantic power of 
France, with almost as much ease as a falcon pounces upon a 
sparrow, Louis ordered his troops to advance towards the 



FALL OF MANY FLEMISH TOWNS. 127 

Rhine, in those provinces which border upon Holland, Cologne, 
and Flanders. He made the agreeable as he passed along, dis- 
tributing money in the villages, as repayment of the mischief oc- 
casioned by his transit ; graciously listening to every complaint 
of the resident gentry. On one occasion presenting a gentleman, 
who came to tell of some disorders committed by the troops, 
with his own hands, a portrait of his royal self so bestudded 
with diamonds as to be worth 12,000 livres;— thus securing 
golden opinions from all men. One division of the army, of 
30,000, which Louis himself accompanied, was commanded by 
Turenne ; the Prince of Conde led another as numerous ; the rest 
were kept separate, to act according to necessity, being under 
Chamilli and Luxembourg. Orsoi, Wesel, Burick, and Rhin- 
berg, fell without a stroke ; the commander of the latter place, 
an Irishman, named Dossary, had been bribed by Louvois. On 
his retirement to Maestricht he was detected by Prince William, 
and paid by the punishment of death the penalty of his Irish 
baseness. 

The towns which bordered upon the Rhine and the Issel sur- 
rendered in quick succession. So frightened were they that some 
of the governors sent their keys the moment they caught a 
distant view of the French ; others fled in consternation before 
the enemy appeared. As the Prince of Orange could not muster 
sufficient troops to appear in the field, it was the general ex- 
pectation that all Holland would be subdued as soon as Louis 
crossed the Rhine; however, the prince formed lines on the other 
side of the river, but, after they were finished, found they were 
untenable. The French had now to choose where they would 
pass in the little copper boats (pontons) I have spoken of as 
introduced by Martinet. Enquiring of the country people, they 
learnt that from the dryness of the season the Rhine was forda- 
ble opposite to an old tower, used by the Hollanders as a toll- 
house (toll-huis),near where the Issel separates from the Rhine. 
The intention was kept quite secret, and Louis set out late in 
the evening of June 7, taking with him the heavy cavalry: once 
across, he could easily maintain his position till the remain- 
der of the army followed. Conde accompanied him. Pelisson 
has left records of this noted affair ; whence we learn that the 
king directed the Count de Guiche to sound the river, when it 
was discovered that only 40 or 50 paces in the middle required 
swimming. As there were on the side of Holland only 400 or 500 
cavalry, the passage was considered easy ; and it turned out that, 
while the French artillery fired upon the Dutch forces in Hank, 
to the number of 15,000, household troops and the best of the 
cavalry, they safely got over. The Prince of Conde was in one 
of the little copper boats by the side of them. The Dutch ca- 
valry fled, having scarcely ventured any opposition, and the in- 



128 DEATH OF THE DUKE OF LONGUEVILLE. 

fantry laid down their arms and begged for quarter. Except a 
few drunken soldiers, no lives were lost in the passage, nor would 
one have been killed but for the imprudence of the Duke of 
Longueville, who, himself having taken too much wine, fired a 
pistol at one of those who, on their knees were begging for 
mercy, exclaiming — " No quarters to such scoundrels I" The 
shot killed one of the officers, the Dutch infantry flew to their 
arms, and fired a round, whereby the duke was killed. A captain 
of horse, named Ossembronk, who had not fled, ran up to the 
Prince de Conde, then in the act of mounting his horse, and 
clapped his pistol to Conde's head ; but the prince, by a sudden 
and timely movement, diverted the direction of the shot, so that 
he was only wounded in the wrist. Strange to tell, this was 
the only wound the Prince of Conde ever received in all Ms 
campaigns. The French became enraged, and, pursuing the 
infantry, killed several : enough had been seen to show that, with 
but ordinary spirit and management, the enemy might have 
caused the passage of the Rhine to cost Louis dear. While some 
Writers are found to praise the prudence of the king in not ex- 
posing himself more than necessary, as the ardour of his troops 
required no encouragement, others give a harsher and more 
offensive turn to his being almost the last to go over ; and one 
eminent writer says that his " understanding and his courage 
were equally defective." Voltaire, whom I must consider as one 
of the best historians of the period, and from his natural bias 
little likely to underrate the achievements of his countrymen, 
says, that the air of grandeur with which the king dignified all 
his actions, and the natural tendency of the Parisians to exag- 
gerate, caused this passage of the Rhine to be regarded as a 
prodigy, whereas in point of fact it is evident he considered it 
as a very common-place affair. 

As soon as the army had passed the Rhine, which called forth 
the pompous verses of Boileau, they took Doesbourg, Skeck, 
Bommel and Crevecoeur ; and so rapidly did the minor places 
fall into their hands that every few hours fresh tidings were 
brought to Louis of some new conquest. So that one of his offi- 
cers requested only 50 soldiers, with which he would engage to 
take two or three towns. Turenne was posted farther up the 
Issel, to be ready to fall upon the rear of the Prince of Orange ; 
and as the Bishop of Munster, aided by the Duke of Luxem- 
bourg, was advancing thither too, Utrecht sent its keys, and ca- 
pitulated for itself and the whole province which bears its name. 
Louis, attended by his grand almoner, his confessor, and the 
titular Bishop of Utrecht, made his triumphal entry into that 
city; the great church was given up to the catholics with much 
solemnity, and the bishop, who had possessed but the vain and 
empty title, was for some time established in real dignity. The 



TERROR OF THE DUTCH. 129 

religion of Louis, says Voltaire, made conquests as well as his 
arms, by which, in the opinion of the catholics, he gained a right 
to Holland. Burnet considers this as a crisis in reformation 
principles, and that the whole was a design, first laid against the 
States, which, if they had been completely crushed, would soon 
have gone on to the re-construction of popery all over Europe. 
It is thought that Turenne's prudence in clearing as he proceed- 
ed — taking towns and leaving friendly garrisons in them, so as 
not to have enemies behind them (while it reflects credit on his 
generalship) in this particular instance was injurious to the French 
scheme. The wound of Conde was sufficient to disable him, and 
he appears not to have been present for some time, to which 
great evil to the king's projects is attributed. Because, it was 
argued, his genius and impetuosity, although much sobered by 
age, were sufficient to have prevailed on the king to push on at 
once to Amsterdam. That city was so prostrate, expecting no- 
thing less than speedy destruction, that the rich Jews established 
there had agreed to club together 2,000,000 of florins as a bribe 
to Gourville (who, it would thus appear, had become reconciled 
to his old patron), to secure the influence of Conde for their 
protection. 

Naerden, in the immediate neighbourhood, was already taken. 
Four only of the French cavalry, foraging, had advanced to the 
gates of Muiden ; the magistrates, panic-struck, presented them 
their keys. But, gathering spirit, as no more troops came up, they 
took back their keys and shut their gates. A moment's diligence 
would, to all appearance, have put Louis in possession of Am- 
sterdam, when the republic would not only have perished, but 
the nation of Holland, and even the land itself, says Voltaire, 
would have disappeared. The richest families, and those most 
loving liberty, prepared to embark for Batavia, and fly even to 
the extremities of the world. It was ascertained that their ship- 
ping was adequate to convey 150,000 (some accounts say 200,000) 
families to the country of their choice. Amsterdam would have 
become one vast lake, leaving to Louis XIV. the barren glory of 
having destroyed one of the most extraordinary monuments of 
human industry. The rage of party only increased with the peril, 
one wishing peace upon any terms, the other resolute to defend 
themselves to the last gasp : the friends of peace prevailed, and 
a deputation was prepared to go to Louis with a view of ascer- 
taining his terms. At this particular time, it seems, neither 
Turenne nor Conde were with the king ; he had only Pomponne 
and Louvois. The former proposed that Louis should restore 
all that belonged to the Seven Provinces, and require of them 
only the places they had without them, such as Maestricht, Bois- 
le-duc, Breda and Bergen-op-Zoom ; that there might remain 
the appearance of preserving the Seven Provinces, which France 



130 NAVAL ACTION IN SOLBAY. 

had always protected. This would have been granted at once 
by Holland : there would have been an appearance of modera- 
tion, and in fact Pomponne's advice would have secured great 
advantages to France, and was substantially wise counsel. But 
Louvois treated the Dutch envoys with insolence, and urged 
Louis to insist on all Pomponne had suggested, and farther make 
them pay the expenses of the campaign ; to give the chief 
church in every town to the papists ; to revoke the commercial 
edicts ; and to demolish the fortresses. In short, with such other 
mulcts and degradations as would make Holland little more than 
a French province : for it was added that they should every year 
send an ambassador to thank the King of France, and to present 
him with a gold medal of the weight of five or six pistoles. In 
addition, having demanded the lion's share, he proposed very 
great things for the Elector of Cologne, and the Bishop of Muns- 
ter — leaving " perfidious Albion" to look after her share. When 
the unfortunate ambassadors heard the ultimatum of the Grand 
Monarque, they were almost petrified, and one of them, seeing 
neither how they could refuse, nor yield, swooned away! 

In Solbay, De Ruyter had surprised the English fleet on 
May 28, when the officers were intent on preparing the usual 
orgies (" Pious orgies, pious strains !") for the 29th, the com- 
memoration of " the happy restoration of our most religious 
and gracious king." On this occasion the Duke of York's per- 
sonal courage was first disputed; and the French ships ''took 
more care of themselves than became gallant men," says Bur- 
net. Admiral Sandwich perished in a fire-ship by his obstinate 
courage in not leaving his ship when it was madness to remain ; 
the Dutch ships were dreadfully cut up — nor, in truth, did ours 
fare much better : in truth, each claimed the victory, but neither 
obtained it. The States were now in the extremity of despair, 
their towns were almost all taken, and hour after hour brought 
such fresh disasters that they had no more spirit left. Unhap- 
pily just now the ferment was added of a general belief that 
they were betrayed by the government, and that De Witt would 
rather all perished than that the Prince of Orange should be set 
up. One of their generals, Mombas, having basely abandoned 
his post, and, without any effort to stop them, suffered the enemy 
to cross the Rhine, was placed under arrest, but escaped, and 
took shelter with the French. The people became more and 
more enraged : at the assemblies of the States they were so con- 
founded that the senators could hardly speak, and sometimes 
were almost all in tears. The mass of the people, seeing the 
distress of their leaders, became more disheartened, till the 
Spanish ambassador suggested to the house to put a better face 
on matters, and assume a confidence they could not feel. His 
advice was followed ; they invented good news, and now plucked 



CORNELIUS DE WITT. 131 

up spirit sufficient to see what could be done with England ; to 
which end they sent off two ambassadors, to whom were given 
secret powers to treat relative to the Prince of Orange. Borel 
was still the ambassador in England — at least, if not recognized 
in that character, he had not yet left ; and the two new envoys, 
Dycvelt and Halewyn, on their arrival, delighted Borel with the 
news of their private instructions. They hurried to Lord Arling- 
ton, who, in all his letters, had urged the interests of Prince 
"William, and came back amazed at hearing no regard would be 
paid to their proposals ; when they were, for form's sake, put 
under a guard at Hampton Court. 

Charles said he would not treat separately, but would send 
ambassadors to Utrecht. The Duke of Buckingham and Lord 
Arlington were appointed, and as the English people were in a 
great ferment, to quiet public effervescence, Lord Halifax was 
also ordered to go afterwards. The Dutch, hearing that their 
ambassadors were coming back without having made a peace, 
assembled in great numbers, vowing they would cut them to 
pieces. The envoys were instrumentally saved by some who 
went in a little boat to warn them to land at another place, 
where carriages had been prepared to take them to the Hague. 
The next day, or rather night, as De Witt was returning from 
the assembly, four persons set on him to assassinate him. He 
was wounded, but escaped their hands, showing great courage 
and presence of mind. One of his assailants was taken, tried 
and condemned ; protesting he had no private motive, but was 
consulting the good of his country ; and in raptures of devotion 
he underwent the last penalty of the law. A barber came for- 
ward, and accused Cornelius de Witt of having concocted this 
scheme to murder his brother. This was so improbable that it 
would not have been listened to but for some circumstances. 
Cornelius was cruelly put to the torture, but persisted in his 
innocence. He was however banished, to get him out of the 
way ; and, as De Witt had resigned the office of grand-pension- 
ary, and been made one of the judges of the high court, his 
taking his sentenced brother in his own carriage out of the town, 
although in all likelihood it was done with the kindest of mo- 
tives, was interpreted by that just and impartial judge, the mob, 
to indicate a triumph, Some furious agitators on the Prince of 
Orange's side gathered a rabble together, accusing the elder 
with the intention to defeat the ends of justice by rescuing his 
brother; while another section of these savages howled out 
their indignation, as I have just mentioned. With conflicting 
cries, an immense multitude assembled; the burgher guard 
turned out, but did not quell the ferment ; some sent for aid to 
the Prince of Orange, who said he could not leave the camp, 
nor could any soldiers be spared. Matters stood thus, when 



132 ASSASSINATION OF THE TWO DE WITTS. 

the late grand-pensionary, expecting the catrastrophe, took his 
brother by the hand, threw his cloak over his head, recom- 
mended his soul to the mercy of God, and was instantly knocked 
down by a musket; in his melancholy death manifesting the 
same real courage which had actuated him in life. 

Sir William Temple says, "they were both presently laid dead 
upon the place, then dragged about the town by the people, 
and torn in pieces. Thus ended one of the greatest lives of any 
subject in our age, about the 47th of his own, after having 
served that state as pensioner of Holland for 18 years, with 
great honour to his country and himself." In another place, 
the same able and faithful writer speaks of him as " a minister 
of the greatest authority and sufficiency, the greatest application 
and industry that was ever known in the Dutch state." Without 
one extravagant habit, he died poor — thus demonstrating his 
disinterested integrity. His " Maxims of Government" record 
his honour, moderation, and justice as a statesman. Other 
accounts state that Cornelius received a hundred wounds, and 
that this dignified assemblage dragged their bodies to the gal- 
lows, offering to the mangled remains of the patriotic and heroic 
brothers all the indignities which their brutal minds could sug- 
gest. Pieces of their flesh were cut off, and eaten by the people, 
their hearts were plucked from their bodies, and exposed for 
several days to the public gaze ! Bishop Burnet tries to obli- 
terate the odium that can scarcely fail to attach to the character 
of William III., for his share of this sad affair, which he says 
that prince always spoke to him of with the greatest horror. 
After his rival was gone, he could afford that. How much 
better would it have been could he have spared the troops, and 
himself attended to prevent this brutal massacre, which the 
irritation of the lower orders, and the former recent attempt 
upon De Witt's life, rendered but too probable ! With the 
horrible removal of these truly great men, the energy of the 
republican party died away ; the last flickering flame of liberty 
went out; and, as usual, the foremost in the crusade against 
national freedom were the clergy, who, regretting that punish- 
ment could no farther go, in pulpit oratory, compared the fate 
of the illustrious brothers to that of Haman ! 

On the other hand, the Prince of Orange, though more of an 
ambitious spirit, was devotedly attached to his country ; and had 
perhaps one quality in which he was superior to the martyred 
defenders of liberty — patience, that yet kept up his spirit. 
As the hopes of the people now turned undividedly towards him, 
those perpetual edicts lately passed, which stood in the way of ap- 
pointing William to be stadtholder, were abrogated. Amsterdam 
offered to make him sovereign of the town ; the States gave him 
full power for war or peace j and the prince's advancement gave 



PATRIOTISM OF THE DUTCH. 133 

new life to the whole country. In the midst of these disorders 
the holders of bank notes ran in crowds to the Amsterdam bank. 
Sixty years before, at the great conflagration, the silver was 
preserved, and the magistrates now brought it out, still black 
from the effects of the fire. The treasure had never been touched. 
And now, if I found it necessary before to inveigh against the 
lucre-loving traits of the Dutch character, let it be told to the 
credit of their distinguished good faith that they were, even 
amidst their disasters, in a condition to pay in full all demands 
— which was done to all those who insisted on it. 

In the deliberations that constantly occupied the senate, 
one bold plan was suggested — to cut the dykes in several places, 
to open the sluices, and thus inundate the country between them- ' 
selves and their invaders. It was done — the water rushed in, as 
it were, to claim its old territory, and thus formed an impassable 
barrier to their enemies by land. On sea an English fleet ap- 
peared in sight of Scheveling, making up to the shore : the tide 
turned ; but they reckoned that, with the next flood, they would 
certainly land the forces that were on board at a spot where they 
could meet with no resistance. The Dutch requested the prince 
to send some troops to stop them, but he could spare none. 
An unexpected ebb of many hours came on, that carried the 
English fleet out to sea; and, before that was spent, De Ruyter 
came up with his fleet, which was considered as a remarkable 
interposition of providence on their behalf. I should have said 
that, although the three English envoys had used their utmost 
efforts with Louis, they had found him inexorable ; so that the 
unhappy Dutch were yet exposed to the fury of the English 
navy. So great and unremitting was the watchfulness of the 
Duchess of Portsmouth over French interests that the ministry 
could not overcome her influence to perpetuate the alliance with 
France. She was that new mistress of Charles, whom I have 
stated (at p. 121,) Louis had sent to him as the most agreeable 
present imaginable. 

Conde is all along understood to have been adverse to the 
plan of this enterprise, as falsifying the repeated assertions of 
Louis, to the European powers, of his being actuated only by a 
desire to chastise an insolent people. Therefore that great ge- 
neral argued against his taking and placing garrisons in the 
various fortresses, which his military tact clearly saw would ma- 
terially weaken the French army. Turenne urgently pressed 
Louis at once to evacuate them. It is said the king now saw 
the error of having suffered Louvois to lead him astray : and 
farther that he regretted having neglected the advice of Pom- 
ponne (see p. 130). Errors in detail now became manifest. Tu- 
renne had been sent against the Elector of Brandenburg with 
great force, thus weakening the royal army still more : the 



134 THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 

mighty city of Amsterdam appeared like a vast fortress in the 
midst of the sea, with her ships of war stationed round it. 
Although there was great scarcity, (particularly of fresh water, 
which was sold for a shilling a pint) they considered these suffer- 
ings as more tolerable than slavery. And it is to be noted that 
this extraordinary people yet transacted a vast business in com- 
merce ; for, amidst all these disorders, De Ruyter convoyed the 
Indian merchantmen into the Texel. Thus, on one side, defend- 
ing and enriching his country, while the calamities of this unjust 
invasion were destroying it on the other. 

The Prince of Orange now abandoned all remuneration ; and, 
notwithstanding his phlegmatic temperament, at the frequent 
debates for the welfare of their beloved country, he encouraged 
them by his fervid eloquence, clearly showing that France 
could not hold out much longer; that England at last must help 
them when parliament assembled ; and that aid would certainly 
come from Germany. He said, if they laid down as a basis that 
religion and liberty could not be purchased at too dear a rate, 
the people might take heart, the confidence of the enemy would 
abate, and Holland yet arise like a phoenix out of its ashes ! 
The knowledge and spirit of this young prince encouraged the 
people, who, also began to see that the King of France was 
brought to a stand still. Indeed, it had now become painfully 
obvious to that proud oppressor that the ocean could neither be 
bribed nor coerced ; and though the Prince of Orange had not 
more than 8,000 men with him, employed in keeping a pass near 
Woerden, yet no attempt was made to force him from it. Rumours 
were spread of there being vaults under the streets of Utrecht, 
which the Dutch had covertly supplied with quantities of gun- 
powder, so that Louis w ould never lodge in the town. He was 
farther disquieted by accounts of quarrels in his Parisian harem; 
and, it is recorded by Burnet that Conde was known to have re- 
marked, Louis had not the soul of a conqueror in him. Thus 
finding he could not make way, the European powers began to 
rouse, the anticipations of the Prince of Orange turned out cor- 
rect; the Emperor was up and doing ; Spain was making exer- 
tions; and England was becoming disposed for peace. In short, 
he who had entered the country triumphant in May, finding in 
July all Europe rustling against his aggressive schemes, left his 
army to take care of itself — and, as it would be said of any or- 
dinary person, he sneaked off to the consolations of his mis- 
tresses ; but of this mighty monarch we must phrase it, quitting 
the army, he retired to Paris. 

Voltaire, while the reader can trace his hatred of oppression, 
still was a Frenchman, and could not part with " glory." He puts 
it that, " satisfied with having taken so many towns in two 
months, Louis returned to St. Germain in the midst of summer ; 



FLATTERY OF LOUIS XIV. 135 

and, leaving Turenne and Luxembourg to complete the war, he 
enjoyed the glory of his triumph. Monuments of his conquests 
were erected, while the powers of Europe were labouring to de- 
prive him of them." In his infamous inarch through the pro- 
vinces of this unoffending people, when Louis' base courtiers 
pointed out the ensigns at the various towns he conquered, he 
replied triumphantly, " Notre Dame will be graced with so many 
the more." He was received with adulation enough to surfeit 
a mind less fond of '' glory." Except the ceremony of adoration, 
which the French confine to their last new mistresses, he was 
flattered with more speeches, verses, inscriptions, triumphal 
arches and medals, than had ever been offered to the worst of 
the Roman emperors. His vanity was fed with little short of 
blasphemy. It was the one subject of debate what should be 
added as a distinguishing epithet to his name. " Le grand" was 
too common; " invincible" was advocated by many; others were 
for " le conquerant;" to imitate Charlemagne, " le magne" was 
suggested by others; then again "maximus" was proposed; 
<f tres grand" was thought not euphonous, neither was "rnaxime." 
After this vital point was turned over with all imaginable so- 
lemnity, they came back to the first and simplest, and " le grand" 
was ever after appended to the name of this " man that should 
die, and this son of man which should be made as the grass." 

The real fault of Louis was to have interfered at all with 
Holland : but the baseness of Charles in lending himself to the 
shameful ambition of the King of France was more conspicu- 
ous, for it is palpably the interest of England to see the Dutch 
an important nation. Therefore to have endeavoured to crush 
that gallant republic, and to raise still higher the vast power of 
France, was a serious error in politics — (I say nothing of morals, 
then alike indifferent to both monarchs, but they now appreciate 
the matter) . In fact, most parties seem to have incurred blame. 
The Emperor Leopold appears to have been inert, and, wrapping 
himself up in German indolence, never to have gone with his 
armies. Charles II., King of Spain, was yet in childhood, and 
we have seen how the besotted queen gave up herself and the 
interests of that once important country to the keeping of her 
wretched confessor. Sweden took the benefit of her locality, 
and would neither mix nor meddle. So this torrent had been 
suffered almost uninteruptedly to rush through the north of 
Europe. I have shown the fatal errors the French king had com- 
mitted in leaving garrisons, instead of destroying the fortifica- 
tions behind him, and in pausing when, at any cost, he should 
have pushed on and taken possession of Amsterdam. Mortified, 
if not humbled, Louis had ingloriously returned to the head- 
quarters of frivolity; and matters had now begun to assume a 
different aspect. The Spanish governor of Flanders acted with 



136 DANGER OF THE FRENCH ARMY. 

a vigour little practised by his court, without whose authority he 
raised several thousands of men to aid the prince's army, declar- 
ing that, if opposed at Madrid, he would abandon the govern- 
ment. The tardy emperor at length made preparations to arms. 
At Egra, Montecuculi with 20,000 was directed to join the Elector 
of Brandenburg, several of the other German powers were form- 
ing leagues to check the French ; and on Sept. 12, 1672, Monte- 
cuculi and the elector combined their forces at Hildesheim. 

Winter arrived, and the inundations of Holland were fro- 
zen ; so that Marshal Luxembourg, from Utrecht, endangered 
Amsterdam. The army had been provided with pattens, or 
clogs; he assembled from the adjoining garrisons about 12,000, 
with whom he marched towards Leyden and the Hague. But 
a thaw coming on, it preserved the Hague, as the French, un- 
able to get off the ice, and destitute of provisions, were ready to 
perish. To get back to Utrecht, they were forced to march upon 
a miry bank, so narrow that four could scarcely walk abreast ; 
neither could they get at this bank but by attacking a fort 
that, without artillery, seemed impregnable. Had this fort only 
stayed the French army a single day, it would have been almost 
destroyed with hunger and fatigue, as they were destitute of 
resources. They were saved through the cowardice of the com- 
mander of this place, who abandoned his post unnecessarily. 
All that resulted from this enterprize was the additional odium 
to the French ; and the infamous giving up of Bodegrave and 
Suvamerdam, two rich and populous towns, to be plundered by 
the French, as compensation for their disappointment and fatigue. 
They set these two towns on fire, and by the light committed the 
most horrible depravities. Voltaire says that, forty years after- 
wards, he saw Dutch books for teaching the children to read, 
recording this in such a manner as to inspire succeeding gene- 
rations with hatred and detestation of the French — and very 
accountably. It would not cause much wonder if the States had 
passed a law that every Frenchman who should hereafter pollute 
their soil should at once be thrown into the sea. 

We are now arrived at 1673. England, disgusted with the 
profligate who unworthily occupied the throne, was filled with 
indignation at being made a tool of Louis. Spain, however, had 
more sense of right ; she joined openly, if not very energetically, 
to help the Dutch. The emperor showed more anger than useful 
opposition, for Louis' gold had fermented troubles to employ 
this feeble prince in Hungary, which distracted his attention. 
However he went to inspect his troops at Hildesheim, when he 
solemnly took the sacrament on the road, and, holding a crucifix 
in his hand, called upon God to attest the justice of his cause ! 
This puerile imitation of the fanaticism of the crusades proved 
no check to the arms of the King of France. So unremitting 



THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 137 

had been the attention shown by Colbert to the state of the navy 
that they now joined the English ships with 40, without reck- 
oning the fire ships, whereas 30 was the extreme number they 
could provide the year before. The French sailors were becoming 
greatly improved, and they grew emulous of the celebrity of the 
Dutch and the English. Louis went in person to Maestricht to 
besiege it ; this place was the key of the Low Countries, being 
very strong. It was defended by an intrepid governor, one Far- 
jaux, a Frenchman, who had entered the service of Spain, and 
afterwards that of Holland : he had 5,000 men. 

It was here Vauban first used those parallels that the Italian 
engineers introduced at the siege of Candia. Louis is said here 
to have shown a better example to his soldiers, by a more labo- 
rious attention than he had hitherto manifested. Young Chur- 
chill, afterwards the great Duke of Marlborough, then only 23 
years old, signalized himself at this siege. He had passed the 
last campaign under his commanding officer the Duke of Mon- 
mouth, who had been entrusted with the English troops sent 
to aid Louis, and witnessed the capture of most of the Dutch 
towns. He volunteered his services on every perilous occasion, 
and so attracted the notice of Turenne that, when a French 
officer, during the siege of Nimeguen, had failed to retain some 
post of consequence, Turenne instantly exclaimed, " I will bet 
a supper and a dozen of claret that my handsome Englishman 
will recover the post with half the number of men that the 
officer who commanded lost it." Turenne was right — it was 
regained, after a desperate struggle, the marshal won his wager, 
and the young ensign secured universal admiration. 

He now, amidst a thousand intrepid actions, performed one 
which was remarkable. A lodgment having been made in what 
was called the half-moon, he accompanied a party commanded 
by the Duke of Monmouth, and at the head of his own company 
Churchill planted the banner of France on the summit of the 
rampart. Louis XIV. gave him thanks at the head of the army, 
recommending him in an especial manner to his own sovereign ; 
and then made him lieutenant- colonel in the French service. 
On the 8th day from the commencement of the siege, Maestricht 
surrendered, June 24, 1673, according to Voltaire ; other writers 
say on the 13th day. Louis exhibited severities for the pur- 
pose of strengthening discipline. One of his officers, Dupas, had 
surrendered Naerden somewhat hastily to the Prince of Orange ; 
the king, considering it derogatory to the " grande nation," con- 
demned Dupas to be led through Utrecht with a shovel in his 
hand, and his sword to be broken. This poor fellow, hoping to 
recover his reputation, or to perish in his shame, volunteered on 
a desperate assault at Grave, and there he was killed. 

i3 



138 LUXEMBOURG S RETREAT. 

But neither the combination of talent, nor the mighty means 
Louis had at command, could overcome the fatal error of 
spreading his army in so many garrisons. Conde in vain as- 
saulted the waters of Holland; Turenne could neither stay 
the junction of Montecuculi with the Prince of Orange, nor 
prevent his taking Bonne. In November the worthless Bishop 
of Munster was attacked by the Dutch. They had by this time 
still farther cut the dykes, and laid the whole country under 
water, from Bergen-op-Zoom to Bois-le-duc. So that Louis, 
after dividing his army, and sending 20,000 of them to join 
Conde, who was keeping the Prince of Orange in check, himself 
took the rest to meet the troops of the emperor ; and, after a 
very short time, left them, to return to Paris. Conde suggested 
a fearful scheme to bring the war to an end, and completely to 
subjugate Holland. Demolishing many of the fortified places, 
to withdraw the garrisons, and only keep up the most important ; 
then, by suddenly seizing Muyden, and another place in the 
immediate neighbourhood of Amsterdam, to surprise that capital. 
The English and French fleets were to combine, to make a des- 
cent in Zealand. The Prince of Orange, however, proved a match 
for the noted Conde, while the famous Dutch admiral prevented 
the proposed junction of the fleets. The English parliament 
now forced its pensioned king to enter upon negociations for 
peace, and cease to be the mercenary tool of France. 

Louis XIV. was daily disturbed in his seraglio with tidings 
of disasters in Holland, and it was now apparent that the enter- 
prise must be abandoned. Voltaire, in the self-same paragraph 
which contains the words " grandeur of France," " conquerors," 
and other fine sayings, admits that their doings were to make the 
cruelly-treated, but undaunted, Dutch pay 1,668,000 florins in 
the single province of Utrecht, and then to release 28,000 pri- 
soners at one or two crowns a man. Dismantling the fortresses, 
Luxembourg made an orderly retreat out of Holland, according 
to some. But Voltaire, who is much more likely to be well 
informed, and very little likely to say anything to diminish the 
" glory " of France, describes their retreat as a hurried one ; and 
sneers at their not having finished the triumphal arch of St. 
Denis, and other monuments of their " conquests," when the 
"conquests" themselves were abandoned! Thus, in the first 
instance, all that Louis had achieved was a blot upon his own 
reputation for political wisdom ; an immense amount of injustice 
and suffering; the derision of Europe; frightful drains upon 
his own people ; fearful destruction upon his enemies ; and the 
foundation of a superstructure of misery in lengthened and 
wasting wars with Spain, Holland, England, and Germany. So 
that, being abandoned by his allies, and becoming himself an 



BASENESS OF THE SWISS. 139 

object of hatred and scorn, he had almost single handed to sus- 
tain the indignation of those enemies whom his own ambition 
had brought upon France. 

A considerable number of troops was assembled upon the 
frontiers of Rousillon, and a fleet, filled with French soldiers, 
was sent to Messina, to harass the Spaniards. The fortresses 
of Franche-Comte were certainly put in an improved condi- 
tion, though yet greatly deficient. Feeling here their inability 
to compete with France, the Duke of Lorraine prudently sug- 
gested to the emperor to anticipate the designs of Louis, by 
pouring in a considerable body of troops to take possession of 
Lorraine. The slow Germans were no match for their more 
active neighbours, who indeed exhibited their superior tact in 
immediately gaining the Switz. The emperor and the King of 
Spain earnestly solicited the 13 Cantons to grant at least a free 
passage to their troops for the relief of Franche-Comte ; hop- 
ing, thus tardily, to repair in some degree their long neglect. 
They used every argument, with that formidable people, so cele- 
brated for their jealousy of liberty, and who had begun to grow 
uneasy at the batallions of Louis being again in their neighbour- 
hood. The emperor and Spain used only arguments ; the King 
of France pressed the Swiss to refuse this passage, and added 
such substantial reasons as were sure to be effectual with those 
hypocrites, whose clamour for liberty was little less than their 
love of money. Louis paid them down 1,000,000 livres, and en- 
gaged for 600,000 more, which soon settled that/ree people. O 
Liberty, what enormities have not been perpetrated in thy bless- 
ed name — and by no people, in any age, so disgustingly as by 
these mercenaries ! They refused the Germans, and pandered 
to the iniquity of France. Louis therefore besieged Besancon, 
in company with the son of Conde. It yielded May 15, 1674, 
after only a nine days' resistance. Navailles took Gray and 
Vesoul, Dole and Salins, and within a few weeks the whole of 
Franche-Comte was again subjected by the French ; to which 
country it has ever since been annexed, remaining a monument 
of the weakness of the governments of Austria and Spain ; the 
standing cupidity of that vile and vaunted race, the Switz ; and 
the energy and strength of France under Louis XIV. 

Meanwhile Turenne had covered the king's operations, and 
repressed every effort of the Duke of Lorraine to make an 
inroad on his former territories. Conde, leading the army of 
Flanders, had not been able to accomplish a great object he 
had — the taking of Mons. He ought to have been joined by 
Bellefonds, who unaccountably delayed; so that the Germans 
advanced far enough to render a junction nearly impossible, had 
not the superior skill of Conde succeeded in forcing the impe- 



140 DISCONTENTS IN ENGLAND. 

rialists to retire, and to secure a passage to Bellefonds ; who at 
length came up, and the united army made for Hainault. 

When Luxembourg retreated from Utrecht, the Prince of 
Orange gathered all the Dutch and Spanish troops he could get 
together, and, with plenty of cavalry, pursued the French towards 
the Meuse. Schomberg was ordered to assemble all the forces 
he could, and hurry to the protection of Luxembourg. The 
prince tried to prevent this, but herein was out-generalled by 
the French marshal. William therefore set about the retaking 
of Naarden, and he saw the necessity of joining Montecueuli so 
as to compel, with their united strength, the feebler powers who 
had been forced by France to return to their duty and interest. 
Turenne was on the alert, and, in a vain dependance on the en- 
gagements of the Bishop of Wurtzburg to supply his army with 
bread, the great commander found himself obliged to retreat 
towards Philipsburg, to procure supplies. Quitting his favour- 
able position, Montecueuli availed himself of Turenne's advance 
towards the Rhine; and so conducted his manoeuvres as to 
mislead that cleverest of French generals, who was unable to 
prevent the object so anxiously longed for by the allies, the 
union of the armies of Montecueuli and the Prince of Orange ; 
now in sufficient strength to punish the Electors of Cologne and 
Munster for the desertion of the cause of justice. Even Turenne 
could not prevent the fall of Bonne, which surrendered after a 
few days' siege. Winter approached, and Turenne returned to 
Paris, after placing his army in winter quarters. 

Meanwhile several naval engagements had taken place. The 
Duke of York being now well understood to be a coward, who 
would betray the honour of England rather than encounter any 
personal risk, Prince Rupert was sent to command the fleet ; but 
it is said that the captains were in the duke's influence, and 
crossed Prince Rupert in every imaginable way. In two or three 
battles between the Dutch and our ships, the victory was ques- 
tionable ; only one French ship engaged, and the men charging 
the admiral with ill conduct, he was put in the Bastille on his 
return. The people of England began seriously to complain 
that we were engaged in a war merely to afford the French the 
pleasure of seeing the two greatest naval powers destroy each 
other. So strongly was this felt that Schomberg, then in the 
employ of France, afterwards told Bishop Burnet he had warned 
the French court that the English would not long submit to an 
alliance which cost the French nothing at sea; however, his 
suggestion, the marshal said, was but coldly received. The fer- 
mentation in England had brought about a change in the ad- 
ministration, which was now for peace ; and the King of Sweden 
had offered his services as a mediator, Cologne to be the place 



CHARLES SIGNS THE PEACE. 141 

where negotiations should be carried on. Holland had consti- 
tuted William stadtholder, and made that and other high offices 
hereditary in the heirs male of that prince, as a compensation 
justly due for the high services he had rendered to his country. 
On the part of England, the Earl of Sunderland, Sir Leolin 
Jenkins, and Sir Joseph Williamson went there as plenipoten- 
tiaries ; but the treaty was of very short continuance, owing to 
a preliminary disagreement between the emperor and the French 
king. The former arrested Furstenberg, Dean of Cologne, who 
attended as representative of the elector, while Leopold main- 
tained he was a subject of the empire, which he had be- 
trayed. The French considered this a violation of the passports, 
and refused to proceed. But in the course of the year 1674, the 
house of commons resolved to force the King of England to a 
peace with the Dutch. 

The French court recalled Croissy, the brother of Colbert, am- 
bassador here, and replaced him with Rouvigny. Charles him- 
self was all anxiety to carry on the war, but Lord Arlington pres- 
sed the Spaniards to influence the Prince of Orange to offer 
Charles a sum of money, to liquidate his debt to the States, On 
their part, they omitted to stipulate that England should enter 
into the league for reducing the French to the terms of the triple 
alliance. But the States were anxious for peace with England at 
almost any price, hoping to be freed from the great trouble and 
expense of securing their coasts, and then to be able to ruin the 
shipping and trade and insult the coasts of France. Peace thus 
concluded between Holland and England, the Prince of Orange 
next accomplished an alliance between the emperor and the 
Elector of Cologne, the Bishop of Munster, the Electors of 
Brandenburgh, and Treves, the Landgrave of Hesse, and the 
Duke of Brunswick, who in the course of this year openly 
avowed their hostility to France. As soon as Charles II., for 
the gratification of receiving £300,000, had reluctantly signed 
the peace at Lord Arlington's, he went up into his drawing- 
room, where, seeing Rouvigny, he drew him aside, and told him 
he had been doing that which went against his heart more than 
losing his right hand, — having at the instance of the Spanish 
ambassador signed a peace with the Dutch: but that the refrac- 
tory house of commons had compelled him, and that Arlington 
had beset him till he was weary of his life. The French ambas- 
sador answered that he was sure his master would accept of his 
mediation, as a most acceptable piece of service to bring the war 
in general to a conclusion. Indeed this appears seriously to 
have been contemplated, but it went off. 

The abilities shewn by Turenne during the re-conquest of 
Franche-Comte will always rank him as one of the iirst of 
generals. Throughout the last campaign he had surmounted 



142 SUFFERINGS IN THE PALATINATE. 

considerable difficulties ; and his fame is the greater from the 
well-known annoyance to which he was subjected by the imper- 
tinent interference of Louvois, whose orders in the king's name 
would have often paralyzed a less bold actor. But the determi- 
nation of Turenne to pursue his own course was not his least 
remarkable distinction. The stern duty of the soldier impelled 
him to military exploits which brought down a dreadful amount 
of sufferings. This the humane will always deprecate, while 
hearing talk of the " glory" gained ; and the more so when we 
see men who otherwise in their homes can show some feeling 
for the sorrows of others, when upon the sad business of war 
calmly ordering operations that inflict incalculable misery. 

After the battle of Stintzheim, Turenne put the Palatinate, 
consisting of a fine and fertile country, to fire and sword. The 
elector-palatine, from the top of his castle at Manheim, be- 
held two cities and 25 towns in flames. A spectacle which 
excited in him both rage and despair, and led him to send Tu- 
renne a challenge to fight a duel. Turenne forwarded this letter 
to the king, who commanded him not to accept the challenge. 
With similar indifference, he destroyed the ovens, and laid waste 
part of the country, of Alsace, to prevent the enemy from sub- 
sisting. He permitted his cavalry to ravage Lorraine, and felt 
more pride at being called the father of the soldiers, than the 
protector of the people. 

Voltaire has a characteristic remark — " all the mischief done 
by him appeared necessary ; his ' glory' covered every thing : and, 
besides, the 70,000 Germans, which he had prevented from 
penetrating into France, would have committed a great deal more 
mischief than he had done in Alsace, Lorraine, and the Pala- 
tinate." There's an argument ! It carries us back to the ever- 
to-be-remembered picture of that sweet singer Cowper — and the 
boyish discussion about robbing the orchard, which winds up 
by Tom's discovering there could be no harm in it — for if he did 
not take them, somebody else would. But, in sober sadness, 
what a picture! Why all this butchery, iniquity, rapine and 
plunder ? Because, primarily, Louis, a personification of splen- 
did selfishness, would enlarge his dominions, spread abroad the 
religion that best accommodated itself to his views, and extin- 
guish that quiet and honest little state which dared to dispute 
his will as law ! Truly, truly, it never can sufficiently be instilled 
into the breasts of the rising generation that " war is a game 
which, were their subjects wise, kings could not play at." 

There exists a society — may all success attend its praiseworthy 
efforts ! — called M the Peace Society." It encourages lectures and 
issues papers as dissuasives from war. Would it not be well to 
get together some of these pictures in detail— hearths made de- 
solate—parents for ever reft of their peace ; children — a once 



CELEBRITY OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 143 

happy group — for no sin of theirs, rendered miserable orphans ! 
In short, to show the insanity and cruelty of such doings as are 
handed down by history. And bring home to the feeling bosom 
an acute sense of the horrors of war, rather than discuss the 
question of its allowableness. 

Painful and disgusting as is the task, the course of this history 
compels me to pursue these records of crime and sorrow. To- 
wards the end of summer the battle of Seneff was fought : the 
Prince of Conde was keeping the field with about 45,000 men, 
against the Prince of Orange, with a force rather larger. Conde 
was very strongly situate, and as William found he could not 
dislodge him, he decamped from Nivelle on August 11, and 
directed his march by Seneff towards Quesnoy. The Prince of 
Orange neglected a precaution as to protecting his rear-guard, 
while passing a defile, of which Conde was too quick not to take 
advantage. Directing one of his generals by a sudden attack 
to disperse six squadrons of the enemy, with the impetuosity 
of his youth, he headed the household troops in a tremendous 
charge on the whole rear-guard of the enemy, who at once 
gave way before him. Bringing up the rest of his troops against 
the enemy, who had formed on the heights, a fresh combat 
commenced; during the melee, the Prince of Orange charged 
in several places, with too great neglect of himself. Nor was 
Conde ever backward in rashness, and on the present occasion 
exposed his life more than he had ever done before, having 
had three horses killed under him. The Prince of Orange got 
among a body of the French mistaking them for his own men ; 
bidding them charge, they told him they had no more powder ; 
finding this, he rode away to his own troops, whom he brought 
up to those French, and quickly routed them. 

The second battle (if it may be so called) restored the 
balance, which in the morning had gone against the Dutch ; but, 
from sheer weariness of fighting, they left off after it had lasted 
sixteen hours. Each party retired, the world being possessed with 
great esteem of the courage and conduct of the Prince of Orange, 
none better appreciating him than the Prince of Conde. About 
13,000 were killed of the allies, and as many of the French : it 
is difficult to decide to which side victory belonged. The French 
are said to have taken a considerable part of the baggage of 
the Dutch and the Spaniards, who were so far weakened as to 
be prevented by Conde from pursuing a great object with them, 
laying siege to Oudenarde. On the other hand, after Conde 
had been ordered to detach 15,000 men to Turenne, he was 
compelled to retire to Paris. Both France and Holland caused 
Te Deum to be chaunted as public thanksgiving ! Nor can I 
think lightly of the responsibility of the clergy — who should 
shew the people that, whatsoever the god of this world may have 



144 BATTLES OF ENSHEIM, AND DURKHEIM. 

to do with " wars and fightings," the God whom we ought to adore 
may be expected to " laugh at our calamity," if we dare to mix 
up his holy name with deeds of darkness and blood ! 

The Prince of Conde suffered greatly from the gout ; and, 
hearing of his return, Louis XIV. paid him the compliment of 
going to the staircase to receive him. The great general walked 
so slowly as to cause the king to wait for him, upon which 
Conde apologised, when Louis made the well-known courtly 
remark : " Cousin, when one is so loaded with laurels, it is of 
course difficult to walk." The genius of Turenne continued to 
be marked by judicious remonstrances to Louis on the absurdity 
of subjecting him, in Alsace, and therefore much better quali- 
fied to know how to conduct his retreat, to obey commands 
from the execrable Louvois ; and that, if he had followed his 
instructions, Philipsburg and Brissac would undoubtedly have 
fallen into the hands of the imperialists. By this time Turenne, 
in the political changes of Europe, was opposed in a manoeuvre 
by Churchill (afterwards Duke of Marlborough) , whose intre- 
pidity and skill Turenne had so admired in Holland, and who 
was destined to outvie even the extraordinary celebrity of that 
eminent leader himself. A general battle took place at Ens- 
heim, between Turenne and the allied armies of Bournon- 
ville and the Count of Caprara ; the results were equally des- 
tructive to both sides, who each retired. The allies made for 
Strasburg, there to wait for the Elector of Brandenburg, after 
which junction, Turenne retreated to a strong position near 
Hochfelden, where, however, he was in great danger. Such 
was the alarm at Paris that they were driven to unusual efforts 
to raise fresh levies, as Turenne's army was reduced to 20,000 ; 
and he was pressed by 60,000. The supplies came in time ; by 
a quiet and able retreat, Turenne deceived the imperial gene- 
rals ; and, during the severity of winter, conducted his troops 
to Befort, alarming the allies by the celerity and judgment of 
his movements. On his road he encountered the Bishop of 
Munster at Mulhausen, also another body at Brumstadt ; both 
parties were entirely put to the rout. He now fought the impe- 
rialists at Durkheim, when they were once more worsted, and 
retreated to the Rhine, which they passed about Jan. 11, 1675. 
All Paris was as much elevated at these successes as before it 
had been depressed. 

Turenne had in turn passed through the severest ordeals, had 
concocted the wisest schemes, had shown moderation in success 
and patience under disasters, sufficient to stamp him as perhaps 
the most important and useful commander the age had produced. 
He was now recalled to Paris to receive the thanks of the 
monarch and the adulation of the people ; he was thronged at 
all the villages he passed through, and received every imaginable 



DEATH OF TURENNE. 145 

and unimaginable honour. Louvois was so very spiteful that 
Turenne insisted respectfully on immediate correspondence with 
Louis, if his services were again wanted ; to which the king 
listened with reason, and even went so far as to insist on Lou- 
vois making ample apology to Turenne. After the fatigues he 
had gone through, at the age of 64, sick of the praise and the 
censures of a noisy and fickle world, this remarkable general 
now wanted to avail himself of that retreat where many of the 
great men of France ended their days, and, among the good fa- 
thers of the Oratory, to make that preparation for his important 
change for which the turmoil of the camp was ill suited. 

Fresh efforts were made for peace, but the sine qua non of 
Lcuis was the liberation of the Dean of Cologne (see p. 141); 
to this Leopold obstinately refused to consent. Louis therefore, 
accompanied by Conde, took the field in Flanders at the head 
of 60,000 men, divided into several corps : with one, Crequi took 
Dinant; Rocheford took Huy; Conde invested Limburg; while 
Louis covered the siege. The Prince of Orange manoeuvred as 
if to relieve Limburg ; the king advanced to meet him : however, 
just then William was seized with the small-pox, and was incapa- 
ble for the remainder of the campaign. Limburg fell on June 22, 
and Conde took Tirlemont and many other towns : but now large 
reinforcements for Turenne were drawn from him, so that he 
could do little more. Crequi was particularly unfortunate in 
all his efforts. Conde is said to have declared that this tissue 
of disasters was alone wanting to make him one of the best of 
generals. 

Montecuculi, always clever, had now, by the benefits of the 
same school, become a most skilful general — he had raised the 
character of the German troops to a very high point. He pur- 
posed to march to Strasburg; and it is most interesting to follow 
the plots and the counterplots of this extraordinary man and his 
noted opponent Turenne; in which every movement seems to 
have been so well foreseen that no period arrived to render it 
prudent to come to action. But at length the French general, 
after two or three months' mutual watching the other, thought 
the moment was come to attack the imperialists: their right was 
too strong, but he gave orders to fall upon the left wing, a 
cannonade on both sides being kept up. Montecuculi had be- 
come so important a general that Voltaire says he was the only 
man worthy to be opposed to Turenne ; and now they were 
about to stake their reputation upon the hazard of a battle. 

July 27, 1675, Turenne took the sacrament ! and expressed 
more confidence than was usual with him. He was disturbed at 
his breakfast under a tree by tidings of some agitation in the 
enemy's camp; and, mounting his well-known piebald horse 
(named " La Pie"), he rode on to try to make out what was the 

K 



146 THE ARMY GREATLY AFFECTED. 

matter. Quitting his staff, he was proceeding, when he met an 
English officer, who warned him not to go on there, as the ene- 
my's guns were pointed in that direction. Turenne, with more 
than his usual sprightliness, said, " I don't mean to be killed 
to-day ! " St. Hilaire, commander-in-chief of the artillery, being 
at hand, said to the marshal, " Look at my battery!" Hilaire 
had extended his arm, which was instantly carried off by a can- 
non ball, that afterwards struck Turenne in the centre of his 
body. Falling forward, the old charger gallopped back to where 
he had left his staff; and, extraordinary as it may seem, Turenne 
kept his seat till then. Dropping, he was caught by his officers 
— he was too far gone to speak, but, opening his eyes, in a 
moment he became a corpse ! Poor old " Pie," without his 
rider, being seen, soon told the dreadful tale to the army, who 
rushed to see their dead " father." A panic now spread through 
their ranks : though burning with revenge — feeling that there 
was none competent to supply his place, it was by a clamour, 
pretty general, proposed to " Loose the piebald — he will lead us 
on ! " Seeing his son weep at the loss of his arm, St. Hilaire 
said, " Weep not for me — it is that great man who should be 
lamented !" The dismay among his officers was such that they 
held a hurried council of war, and determined to retreat in all 
haste across the Rhine. They were followed by the imperialists, 
who killed between 3,000 and 4,000 men ; nor would Monte- 
cuculi stop, hearing of the death of his noted antagonist, until 
he had penetrated Alsace. 

The Swabian peasants let the spot where Turenne fell lie 
fallow for many years, and carefully preserved the tree under 
which he had been breakfasting, (" Oh, woodman, spare that 
tree!") — which is no feeble testimonial to the respect inspired 
by one whose stern duty had cost them so much. Turenne ap- 
pears to have been more remarkable for solidity than for bril- 
liancy, and his schemes, and his determinate patience in carrying 
them into effect, alike excite our wonder. Of him it is said, con- 
trary to the wont of our nature, that he increased in the spirit 
of enterprise as he grew older. This may be partly accounted 
for from his great success ; and partly by consummate caution, 
which prevented rash undertakings, having so matured his judg- 
ment that he committed no imprudences. But his main cele- 
brity consisted in readiness to take advantage of favourable cir- 
cumstances, and equal fortitude and perseverance in adversity. 
Though literature and arms were seldom conjoined, it is said that 
Turenne was well acquainted with the French poets, and knew 
something of the Latin. Unpretending in his dress and bearing, 
he was distinguished for the dignity which avoided quarrels, 
detesting the practice of duelling. Unlike our Marlborough, 
who would not forego the bad custom of taking a per centage 



CHARACTER OF TURENNE. 147 

on his army contracts, Turenne despised money, where he could 
have amassed prodigious sums. In public life we see him the 
idol of his country— perhaps the vile Louvois was the only one 
who did not sorrow for his sad end. And in private he was 
admired by all his circle of acquaintance, as cheerful, courteous 
and benevolent : the French writers in some measure attribute, 
this to his excess of " glory" over all the rest of the world, being 
so great that nothing could incommode him ! All mourned 
him — Montecuculi expressed the greatest grief at the loss of 
his opponent. Louis paid the highest honours to him which 
could be heaped upon his memory; and just then creating eight 
new marshals, it was wittily said that these eight were change for 
a Turenne ! He married the daughter of the Due de la Force in 
1653, who died childless in 1666. 

He had been brought up a zealous Calvinist by his parents, 
the Due of Bouillon and the daughter of that Prince of Orange 
to whom was attributed the deliverance of the Netherlands from 
the yoke of Spain, so that he could hardly be called a French- 
man. Having become a Catholic, it is thought the cause was a 
feeling of gratitude to Louis, who, when he made him marshal- 
general in 1668, almost solicited the change of religion at the 
hands of Turenne, uttering these words, meant to operate a con- 
version : " I wish you would oblige me to do something more 
for you :" — whereby it was understood Louis promised him the 
post of Constable, upon terms. Voltaire says, " it is possible this 
conversion was sincere : the human heart often reconciles poli- 
tics, ambition, the weakness of love, and the sentiments of re- 
ligion ; but the Catholics, who triumphed in this change, could 
not be persuaded that the great soul of Turenne was capable 
of dissembling." Turenne composed memoirs of his own life, 
which have been published in the life of him by the chevalier 
Ramsay. Other accounts have appeared of this general, whose 
personal celebrity makes one forget his ancestral importance 
(" quosque non fecimus ipsi"). We are painfully reminded, in 
contemplating the career and the end of this remarkable man, 
of the solemn words of the interesting church-yard poet : — 

" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave, 
Await alike the inevitable hour ; 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

The disasters which had attended Crequi were so terrible 
at Treves that not more than a fourth of his army escaped from 
the Germans. Added to the dreadful losses in Holland, and 
throughout Turenne's campaigns, the numbers of the French ar- 
mies were so reduced that Louis was compelled to have recourse 
to the arriere-ban. The word is derived from here, an army 

k 2 



148 PROGRESS OF MONTECUCULI. 

and ban, an edict, and signifies summoning to the war all that 
had fiefs, or possessions under the king ; so that they were com- 
pelled to follow their sovereign lord to the wars at their own 
expense. It came down from barbarous times, and has sunk into 
desuetude in civilised states, a substitute having been found in 
standing armies. Louis assembled his nobility in a corps, whom 
he sent, under the command of the Marquis de Rochefort, to 
Flanders, and afterwards to the confines of Germany. Of this 
group, which proved useless, most went against their inclina- 
tions. There were about 4,000, mounted and armed differently, 
and, being undisciplined, unable and unwilling to do regular ser- 
vice, they little resembled military. Causing the utmost confusion, 
were soon dispensed with, and are now only worthy of mention 
as the last vestiges in France of the remains of chivalry. 

Conde alone could repair the loss of Turenne, so that he 
was re-called from Flanders, and Marshal Luxembourg left in 
command there. The progress of Montecuculi required to be 
stopped, which Conde soon effected; and forced the brave and 
talented commander of the imperialists to raise the sieges of 
Haguenau and Saverne, after two months' manoeuvring, which 
displayed equal talent in both generals. Suffering much from 
the gout, and almost worn down by long labour, this extraordi- 
nary commander now retired from military life, and went to Chan- 
tilli, whence he rarely proceeded to court. He wished to pro- 
cure the command he had quitted for his son, but Louis was 
wise enough not to suffer so young a man to fill so responsible 
a post. Conde employed the few years left to him in the culti- 
vation of literature, and conversation with men of genius, being 
well acquainted with much in which they shone. The calmness 
displayed in his last campaign seems to have been an unnatural 
damming up of that devouring fire which had so distinguished 
the prince in his earlier days. And that impetuosity, that had 
so often carried him beyond his bodily strength, caused a pre- 
mature decay, which had decided him to retire even before the 
rapid steps of old age came over him. Once or twice only did 
he interfere in public matters, and then merely, at the personal 
request of the king, to give some advice as to military proceed- 
ings. In fact he had become the old man, rarely quitting his 
home. He went to see the Marshal de Grammont, when he was 
very ill on one occasion; and in 1686 he also, spite of all the 
solicitations of his friends, attended the sick bed of his grand- 
son's wife, Madame de Bourbon, one of the king's natural 
daughters, the disease being small-pox. As he heard the king 
was coming in, the prince who could rarely move from his chair, 
unexpectedly got up, and, stopping Louis in the door-way, per- 
suaded him to leave. The exertion and excitement caused him 
to grow rapidly worse ; but he had been wise enough not to wait 



DEATH OF CONDE. 149 

for the approach of illness, nor the warnings of mortality, to de- 
dicate his hours to religious reflections. But he had held much 
sweet converse with a godly friend, with whom he had long been 
in the habit of drinking at the fountain of wisdom, while toge- 
ther they read the sacred page. The prince had been greatly 
impressed with the want of consideration of most, who defer 
preparation for another world till the last hour ! 

Conde's mind thus strengthened by preparatory discipline, 
he became equal to his last conflict, says Bossuet in his funeral 
oration. Voltaire describes the last two years of Conde's life, 
during which he had been impressed with a sense of his sins and 
of the need of mercy, as indicative of the strength of his body 
having decayed, and having carried with it the strength of bis 
mind — so that there remained nothing of the great Conde ! As 
that solemn hour approached, he was warned — when he cried out 
in the most energetic manner, " Thy will, O God, be done — Oh, 
give me grace to die the death of the just!" He seemed now, 
just as he used to be in the day of battle, occupied, but not ruf- 
fled — resolute, but calm. The pulse of the old warrior fails ; he 
seems falling from his high estate, and his glory departing, as he 
rapidly approaches, through the awful valley, the confines of the 
present and the future. " The learned leech can give no hope," 
but the dying hero, as the ministers of religion draw near, im- 
pressively calls out, " These are my true physicians !" Speak- 
ing more solemnly to one of them, he assured him that while he 
ever had belief in the Christian doctrine, he had now a rapturous 
faith. Crying out, "Yes, I shall behold my God face to face!" 
he appeared as if suddenly illuminated, as if a celestial ray had 
pierced through human ignorance, and he sunk back on his 

dying pillow never more to speak. The splendid French 

orator, from whom I have condensed some of these remarks, 
beautifully adds, " instead of deploring his death, I will labour 
to make my own resemble it." While the philosopher derides 
that change without which there can be no hope concerning our 
latter end, the Christian will joyfully hail the great genius of 
war — the glory of France — and (after the death of Turenne) 
unquestionably her ablest general, brought to receive the gospel 
in child-like simplicity; and rejoice to appropriate to him the 
expressive line of England's sweet poet : — 

" And faith at last — worth all the rest." 

The spirit of Conde passed away December 11, 1686, in the 
66th year of his age. Owing to his retirement, but little space 
was required to trace our hero to his end, and as he no more 
figured in public, I thought it better to carry through his memoir, 
particularly as no chronology is invaded, so far as the events of 
Louis' reign are concerned. 



150 DEATH OF MONTECUCULI. 

The adroit and powerful opponent of Turenne, Montecuculi, 
who had long had failing health, also quitted the command of the 
army at the close of the campaign. He was born at Modena, 
1608: his uncle made Raynard pass through all the gradations 
of military life, causing him to begin by enlisting as a com- 
mon soldier. Raynard Montecuculi, first distinguished himself 
against the Swiss, and, with only 2,000, he defeated 10,000, 
though he was afterwards taken prisoner by Bannier. After two 
years' imprisonment he gained fresh laurels against the Swedes; 
and, in 1657, he once more commanded victoriously against that 
people and the Turks. We have seen how able he proved 
against the two best generals of modern times; till at length, 
wasted by illness and fatigue, he retired, amidst the respect 
of friends and foes, to Lintz; where he died in 1680, aged 
72. The King of France losing almost at once such distin- 
guished commanders as Turenne and Conde, it might be ima- 
gined would carry on the war to a disadvantage, but it was other- 
wise. His officers had been formed under those eminent men. 
Early in 1676, he resumed the operations in Flanders, and 
speedily took Conde, Bouchain, Valenciennes, Cambray and 
Aire. At Bouchain the Prince of Orange appeared with 50,000 
men ; he was blamed for not attacking the army of the king, 
who on his part was reflected on for inactivity. 

At Valenciennes the king had present with him his brother, 
always celebrated for bravery in the field, though otherwise of 
a feeble character ; and Marshals d'Humieres, Schomberg, La 
Feuillade, Luxembourg, and De Lorges. Voltaire says each took 
a day to command in turn — all the operations being directed by 
Vauban, the celebrated engineer. Louvois also was present, and 
indeed by his able administration of the finances, and perpetual 
attention to the necessities of the armies, had secured the high 
opinion of all. Valenciennes was singularly fortified, for the in- 
vaders had to pass through two half-moons, several ditches and 
crown-works, which passed, there was a branch of the Scheldt 
to get over, and then a pate (a work in fortifications). After this 
came the Scheldt itself, that was deep and rapid, and there 
became as a ditch to the wall : finally, the wall itself was de- 
fended by large ramparts, the works covered with cannon, and 
the garrison of 3,000 every way prepared for a long defence. 
The French held a council of war : and, whereas these attacks 
were generally made in the night, Vauban proposed that this 
should be in the day. But all five marshals and Louvois con- 
demned the plan. Still Vauban was positive : he showed that the 
surprise after the fatigue of watching all night, and the expecta- 
tion of a nocturnal attack, would be greater to the besieged ; 
that much less blood would be spilt ; that to be watched by the 
day -light naturally spurred on those of doubtful courage, as the 



CHARLES V. DUKE OF LORRAINE. 151 

eye of the monarch was upon them to inspirit them with hope. 
In short, the king had greater confidence in Vauban's judgment 
than in the others ; and at 9 o'clock the next morning the mus- 
queteers, guards, and grenadiers mounted upon this great crown 
work. They made themselves masters of it, and, letting down 
the draw-bridge, which joined this work to the others, they fol- 
lowed the enemy from one entrenchment to another, over the 
little branch and the main stream of the Scheldt. This was done 
so promptly that the musqueteers were in the city, and the guards 
very nearly so, before the king even knew they had taken the 
first work. These young men ranged themselves, under the com- 
mand of a cornet, named Moissac, in order of battle behind 
some carts; seized upon some houses, whence by their firing 
they could protect such of their comrades as were coming up in 
some disorder. The garrison was thus brought to a parley: 
the town-council assembled, deputies were sent to the king, who 
made the garrison prisoners of war, and entered the town in 
perfect astonishment at being master of it ; order was preserved, 
as plundering was forbidden. Ghent fell within four days, and 
Ypres in seven. 

But the attention of Louis was now called to the condition 
of the Duke of Luxembourg, who had been unable to prevent 
the taking of Philipsburg, although he had tried with 50,000 
men to succour it. The nephew of the lately deceased and 
unfortunate Duke of Lorraine, Charles V.. inherited the best of 
his qualities, without those drawbacks which had characterised 
Charles IV. A large detachment was withdrawn from the army in 
Flanders to support Luxembourg on the Rhine. Charles V. now 
endeavoured to make an inroad into his hereditary dominions ; 
but, though he led 60,000 men, Luxembourg succeeded in pre- 
venting his passing the Rhine. Crequi, now liberated from his 
imprisonment, and rendered cautious by bitter experience, baffled 
the Duke of Lorraine at all points, thus atoning by great success 
for the rashness that had formerly entailed such misery. Lux- 
embourg took Montbeliard, and Bouillon fell before Crequi. On 
this side, the campaign, which had, upon the whole, proved in 
favour of France, now terminated. Louis himself had retired 
to Paris, but he left his marshals in Flanders. Monsieur, the 
king's brother, commanded in a battle against the Prince of 
Orange, who tried to succour St. Omer. He was aided by D'Hu- 
mieres and Luxembourg, which latter had been hastily sent off 
to support him, when the approach of the Prince of Orange was 
known. The encounter took place at Montcassel, or, as now 
called, Casal. Great faults of generalship were committed on 
both sides, at least by the Prince of Orange andD'HumuTes. Those 
of the latter had nearly settled the fate of the battle, had not 
Monsieur (now Duke of Orleans) been ready with assistance. 



152 NAVAILLES DEFEATS THE SPANIARDS. 

which proved fatal to the Dutch, who suffered a signal defeat. 
This effeminate prince certainly acted so well in the field, and 
gave such occasional signs of courage and skill, that it was 
always understood Louis envied him this praise, which one 
would have thought he might have afforded. Especially as Mon- 
sieur always dressed like a woman, wearing the same night-caps, 
and painted and patched as ladies do (says Voltaire), though 
upon this occasion he behaved like a man and a soldier. Such 
was the pettiness of Louis le Grand that he was quite dejected at 
his brother's success. As the friends of the Duke of Orleans 
prognosticated, immediately on the attainment of the victory, 
the king took good care he should never more command an army. 
In addition to the success of the French in Flanders, Monclar 
had compelled the Duke of Saxe to repass the Rhine. This he 
did in hopes of joining the Duke of Lorraine at Kehl. Crequi 
judiciously prevented it, by forcing the Duke of Saxe-Eisenach 
to place himself in an island in the Rhine. France had never 
been in good odour at Strasburg, but Crequi was too powerful to 
render it prudent for that city to aid the duke, who was therefore 
compelled to negociate with the French general a retreat for his 
army into the interior of Germany, commencing his march 
Sept. 27, 1677. His favourable escape is attributable to the 
approach of the Duke of Lorraine, whom Crequi now harassed, 
and at last drove into winter quarters. Seeing the two imperial 
armies thus hors de combat, he suddenly wheeled round upon the 
city of Friburg, which, after a siege of five days, by yielding, 
added to his trophies. 

Navailles had defeated the Spaniards in the Lampourdan ; 
and they were attacked in Sicily under Monterey. Messina 
had rebelled and called in aid from Spain, who brought up a 
fleet, and reduced them to great extremities. They received 
relief through Valbelle, who, with a few ships, passed through 
the Spanish fleet. After this, Vivonne came up with several men 
of war and fire ships, and, defeating the enemy's fleet, entered 
Messina in triumph. Spain now procured aid from Holland, 
and was joined by 23 ships of war under the great De Ruyter. 
Vivonne, because he is said to have been compelled to remain 
in the city to maintain order, deputed Duquesne to command 
the French fleet. He was a skilful kind of privateer, who, al- 
though he had great experience, had never yet commanded a 
fleet : however, he showed himself to be a man of vast talent, 
even when pitted against one like the Dutch admiral. 

In an engagement which took place between the hostile fleets, 
De Ruyter was mortally wounded on March 12, 1676; the can- 
non-ball had shattered both his legs, but he insisted on lying on 
the deck, where he could command the fleet. He was gratified 
by seeing the French ships driven before the Dutch, and com- 



DEATH OF DB RUYTER. 153 

pelled to abandon their enterprise. He ordered his fleet to 
Syracuse, to refit, where his wounds were attended to ; notwith- 
standing, he died within ten days from the dreadful conflict. 

Such a man must not pass away without farther notice. He 
was born 1607 : so early as at eleven years of age, he was a com- 
mon cabin-boy, and rising, by dint of careful services, to the 
higher branches of the naval profession, after going eight times 
to the West Indies, and twice to the Brazils, he was made ad- 
miral 1641. Briefly to recapitulate his labours: he assisted the 
Portuguese against the Spaniards; and afterwards, at Sale on 
the Barbary coast, defeated a superior force of Algerine cor- 
sairs. In 1653, he was second in command to Van Tromp in the 
three battles fought against the English ; and two years after- 
wards he displayed his valour against the Turks in the Mediter- 
ranean. His services to Denmark against the Swedes, in 1659, 
procured to him a liberal pension from the king, and the ho- 
nours of nobility, De Ruyter's expedition against the combined 
fleets of England and France (see p. 130), in 1672, added fresh 
laurels to his brow ; and in the three engagements with the same 
hostile squadrons next year he maintained his character. We have 
just seen how he came to his end, in the 70th year of his age, 
lamented by all nations. Such was the estimation in which he 
was held that he had received from his own nation, of course, 
the highest honours ; and the reputation of the house of Nassau 
derives additional lustre from the appreciation it showed of the 
bold sailor. The council of Spain conferred upon the dying 
hero the title of duke. But, as these honours did not arrive till 
after his death, and were by his children considered as frivolous 
to a republican, being, says Voltaire, worthy of their father, they 
refused to accept that which in monarchies is so coveted ; but 
which, compared with the merit of being a good citizen, was 
viewed by the noble Dutch republicans as vox et preterea nihil, 
Louis XIV. expressed great grief at the death of his noted ene- 
my; and, being almost reprimanded for entertaining so foolish a 
feeling, as De Ruyter had been dangerous to France, he said, " I 
know it well, but cannot refrain from sorrow at the death of so 
illustrious a character.'' 

Duquesne attacked the combined fleets when they again put 
to sea at Palermo, drove them back with great loss, and the 
French fire-ships followed eight large vessels, which they burned 
in the very port. Five thousand Dutch and Spaniards fell in this 
terrible battle, and several of the ships of the allies were taken. 
Spain was farther damaged by their army being defeated by 
Vivonne. He now proceeded to lead his brutal bands into Sicily, 
who committed such excesses that the inhabitants joined the 
Spaniards. The French were so thoroughly detested for their 
enormities that, after a short time, they evacuated the three or 



154 CONGRESS OF NIMEGUEN. 

four places they had taken, and abandoned Sicily wholly on 
April 8, 1678. Louis incurred great blame for these useless ac- 
quisitions, and for the commencement of enterprises, here, in 
Holland, and elsewhere, which he did not carry through. 

The conduct of the king will be the better appreciated, 
when the reader is told that, by this desertion of the Sicilians, 
those who had invited the French became obnoxious to the 
Spanish government, thousands being vilely persecuted, and 
many executed as traitors. Other exhibitions of the vast power 
of Louis were simultaneously carried on. He caused this power 
to be felt by his enemies in every part of Europe. He weakened 
his old enemy Spain by his atrocities in Sicily ; he fermented 
all imaginable mischief to the house of Austria, by inciting the 
Turks to invade Germany ; while by his influence new troubles 
sprang up in Hungary. He worked upon Sweden to worry the 
Elector of Brandenburg, who had taken Pomerania from the 
Swedes ; and astonished all Europe by his strength, that seem- 
ed to become as formidable by sea as by land. At Nimeguen 
a conference for peace was held under the mediation of Eng- 
land. But even here Louis haughtily made his proposals on the 
9th of April, while success was following his arms, and required 
an answer on the 10th of May, for he felt that he was almost 
everywhere a conqueror. His attention had been greatly diverted 
from Holland, to whom he granted a farther time of six weeks ; 
and to Germany and Spain, against whom Navailles had addi- 
tionally succeeded by taking Pincerda. 

But, spite of all this splendid appearance, there was a gnaw- 
ing-worm which smote the gourd. The all-important point, the 
philosopher's stone, the needful, that all sorts of Christians, 
from bishops to baptists, preach against, and all covet — money 
was wanting. The screw was put on even to this mighty con- 
queror: for, notwithstanding the genius of Colbert, he had 
exhausted all means, legitimate and illegitimate, to supply the 
ceaseless drain which these wicked wars created. Having gone 
to the utmost extent of his power, he felt and said that, if the 
war was not speedily brought to a close, all those really splendid 
and useful schemes which were giving such benefits to France 
must be abandoned. Therefore that extraordinary minister used 
all his influence with his royal master to exercise moderation in 
his demands at the congress of Nimeguen. 

Nov. 4, 1677, William had been married to the daughter 
of the Duke of York, afterwards James II., to the unspeakable 
annoyance of Louis XIV. Lord Montague, who communicated 
the news to the King of France, says, he received it as he would 
have done the loss of an army. Another conspicuous point was 
a fund of jealousy in the breasts of the English people — all 
trampled on as they were by the pleasure-loving and time-serv- 



THE KING OF ENGLAND BRIBED. 155 

ing aristocracy, and the miscreant whom they had set up on that 
throne whence his father had been brought to the block with 
much less desert than would have been his degraded and deceitful 
son. But it was evident that Britons could never tamely see 
the injustice and overbearing insolence of the French much 
longer, without stopping the torrent. And if we add, what to 
our nation ought ever to be the main object of attention, the 
rapidly rising French marine, we get a clue to the real neces- 
sities Louis was under to stop the effusion of human blood. 
Contenting himself with many of his acquisitions, Louis there- 
fore was compelled to rest therewith satisfied in lieu of the toil 
and expenses of these wars. 

First, a treaty was signed between France and Holland, 
whereby the town of Maestricht was given up ; the other towns 
can hardly be said to be restored, as the Dutch had more or less 
recovered them. In consideration of Spain agreeing to Louis* 
retention of Franche-Comte, he allowed, as a barrier to the 
united provinces, Charleroi, Courtrai, Oudenarde, Ath, Ghent, 
and Limbourg. But Valenciennes, Cambray, Conde, Bouchain, 
Ypres, Menin, Aire, Maubeuge, Popering, St. Omer, and all 
that part, in fact, which constitutes French Flanders, was re- 
tained, and still is appended to France. He also succeeded in 
his terms with the empire ; he insisted on the two brothers 
Furstemberg being reinstated, both in their territories and the 
bishopric of Strasburg, His policy was thought bad in leaving 
to Germany to choose between Friburg and Philipsburg, as the 
emperor at once chose Philipsburg, knowing that place was 
the key to the centre of Germany. Charles V., Duke of Lor- 
raine, would have nothing to do with these treaties, and there- 
fore secured no more benefit from them than the oyster-shells 
of litigants, while the lawyers take the oyster. The Elector of 
Brandenburgh made humble submissions. As Denmark was re- 
fractory, Crequi was sent with powerful arguments, and defeated 
their general, Spaan. Then continuing his march, and laying 
some of the Danish territories under contribution, the King 
of Denmark's vision was cleared, and, perceiving the power of 
French argumentation, he sent in his submission. Branden- 
burg was made to disgorge his conquests. 

Thus, in reality, Louis XIV. dictated terms to Germany, Hol- 
land, and Spain ; but the gold of France was found a valuable 
vade mecum in these transactions. The itching palm of our re- 
probate king was the first to be soothed. Charles received a large 
sum, engaging by a private treaty not to help the Dutch or Spa- 
niards, if in two months they had not accepted the terms of 
France. To prevent our parliament from interfering, he engaged 
to prorogue the two houses for four months after the two should 
have expired. Louis farther offered 6,000,000 livres if our army 



156 BASENESS OF THE BISHOP OF STRASBURG. 

should be disbanded by August; this not taking place, France was 
saved that sum. But large sums were distributed among our 
members of parliament, who seem to have been very open-handed 
in all ages. On the 10th of August, 1678, peace had been signed 
with Holland. The Prince of Orange attacked the army under 
the Duke of Luxembourg, near the abbey of St. Denis, in the 
neighbourhood of Mons, on the 14th of August, and a long and 
bloody contest occurred. The result of this is, by Feuquieres 
and others, stated to have been characterised by no success to 
the Prince of Orange; but Voltaire says it cost the French 2,000 
men, and as many fell of the Dutch. The character of William 
was greatly reflected on for this wanton butchery. It was said 
he must have known that peace was agreed on, and a peace 
advantageous to his own country. For, while all other countries 
lost something, the noble stand the Dutch had made was re- 
warded with a powerful barrier — so vain are all human calcu- 
lations. 

The designs of Louis XIV. were evidently to gain time to re- 
cruit for farther conquests : while Germany, Spain, and Holland, 
disbanded their troops, France kept up theirs. On March 22, 
1680, he caused a re-union of Metz and Brissac to the crown 
(which had for ages acknowledged other sovereigns), by a civil 
process in the chamber of Metz. They had the modesty to cite 
many princes of the empire, the Elector Palatine, and the King 
of Spain himself, as well as the King of Sweden, to appear be- 
fore them, to render homage to the King of France. In short, 
all that was left to these princes was vain remonstrance at the 
assemblies at Ratisbon and elsewhere ; for the long wars had so 
crippled his enemies that Louis justly calculated these fresh 
aggressions would indicate to them his ability to maintain his 
daringly assumed rights. 

Strasburg was famous for its arsenal, which had 1,000 pieces 
of cannon ; she always boasted of her freedom, was rich in pos- 
sessions, and extended in dimensions, and, by reason of its 
bridge over the Rhine, commanded that river. It had long been 
a scheme of Louvois to secure this city to France. By means, 
therefore, of " yellow hussars," many of the principal persons 
were convinced, the bishop, like that episcopal functionary des- 
cribed by our poet Cowper, preferring 

" The nearest place to any throne 
Except the throne of grace," 

was a servile creature of Louis. From him he had received gra- 
tifications for favours to come at the peace of Nimeguen. He 
went to work with dishonesty, and succeeded in prevailing upon 
the Strasburghers to disband their army, on account of the ex- 
pense. France had pretended to distribute her soldiers among 



DESOLATION OF GENOA. 157 

the neighbouring garrisons, but contrived to hold them in readi- 
ness for her iniquitous enterprise. The unprincipled Louvois 
started from Paris, September 28, 1681 ; and having caused 
15,000 or 16,000 men to assemble, the Strasburghers, with dis- 
may, saw their ramparts surrounded. By the intrigues, me- 
naces and confusion, which the vile bishop had fermented, spite 
of the prayers, tears and despair of the citizens, the magistrates 
and burgomasters surrendered on the 30th. All the fine promises 
of preservation of rights and liberties shared the fate of the 
assurances of the strong to the weak ; and by Vauban's sensible 
additions to its already great strength, Strasburg became one of 
the most powerful fortifications of France. Louis observed little 
less ceremony elsewhere : the Duke of Mantua was bought to 
give up Casal to a French officer ; and, very fast, demands were 
made, in the Low Countries, upon what Spain had retained at 
the treaty of Nimeguen. France fermented troubles in Hol- 
land, which were abetted by Chudleigh, our envoy at Amster- 
dam, who became so insolent towards the Prince of Orange 
that he would never more allow him to come into his presence. 
So strong was the party which leaned towards France at our 
court that the influence of the prince could not procure the recal 
of Chudleigh. While that of France was sufficient to cause a 
motion to be carried at Amsterdam for setting up the Prince of 
Friezeland as stadtholder, to which end he was invited thither. 
This brought on some concessions from William, who now, with 
the princess Mary, went to Amsterdam. 

France made some demands upon Genoa, at once unrea- 
sonable and unjust, to which they would not accede. The King 
of France now ordered that Genoa should be bombarded, trust- 
ing in the confusion, that comparatively few men would make 
themselves masters of the place. The Genoese were indignant, 
and, looking to Spain for assistance, persisted in their indepen- 
dence. Louis directed a fleet to leave Toulon, consisting of 14 
large ships, 20 gallies. 10 bomb vessels and several frigates. 
Colbert's son, Segnelai, who had attended to nautical matters, 
was on board this fleet; he was courageous and spirited, and 
ambitious of figuring both as a general and a minister. Old 
Dusquene commanded the men of war, and the Duke of Mon- 
temar the gallies, but both were under Segnelai. Arrived be- 
fore Genoa, March 17, 1684, they commenced operations: 14,000 
bombs were thrown into the city, which reduced to a heap of 
ashes some of those splendid marble edifices that had given the 
name of proud to the city: and 4,000 soldiers advanced to 
the gate of the city, and burnt the suburb of St. Peter d' Arena. 
The Genoese however recovered themselves, and were so ani- 
mated with fury that they beat off the French with a courage 
scarcely to have been expected, all unaided as they were by 



158 THE DOGE OF GENOA. 

any other states. In the negotiations, Louis insisted, as the 
price of sparing the republic, the Genoese should send a depu- 
tation to Versailles, humbly to implore the royal clemency. 

Finding that England, whose pride it ought to have been 
to help the helpless, could do nothing, under the pensioned 
King Charles ; and that neither the Dutch nor Spaniards could 
afford them timely support ; the doge and some of the senators 
went to Versailles. There, though humiliating to ask any thing, 
Bishop Burnet, who was present, says, "when all the glory 
of Versailles was set open to the doge, and the flatterers of 
the court were admiring every thing, he seemed to look at 
them with a coldness that became a person who was at the 
head of a free commonwealth. And when he was asked if the 
things he saw were not very extraordinary, he said, the most 
extraordinary thing that he saw there was himself!" This Doge 
Lescars was a man of great wit ; and, contrasting the insolence of 
Louvois, Segnelai, &c, with the bearing of the king, he remark- 
ed that the " king, by his manner of receiving us, deprives us of 
our liberty, but his ministers restore it." The courts of Rome 
and Versailles continued in a misunderstanding, as the pope 
adhered to the house of Austria, in repelling the Turk, and en- 
gaged the help of the Venetians. His holiness w T as also dissa- 
tisfied with many of the proceedings of France. The Jansenists, 
however, who were not in good odour at Rome, and w T ho were 
zealous assertors of the liberties of the Gallican church, were in 
favour of the pope ; and the Jesuits, adhering to the stronger 
side, were for France. Meanwhile persecution of French pro- 
testants went on unremittingly. 

Louis demanded the town of Alost and its bailiwick from 
Spain, which he naively assured them, at the time of the settle- 
ment at Nimeguen, had been altogether forgotten ; and, as 
Spain took rather longer than he pleased in refreshing her 
memory, he caused Luxembourg to be invested. Europe was 
alarmed at seeing the king thus extending his territories in 
peace ; and the four continental powers entered into fresh trea- 
ties to check the ambition of France, but hesitated to strike the 
first blow. By the genius of Colbert, Toulon was constructed, 
at an enormous outlay; Brest was formed upon an extensive 
plan; Dunkirk and Havre-de-Grace were improved and filled 
with ships ; and Rochefort was raised to a high degree of impor- 
tance. Bomb ships had only lately been introduced. A young 
man of celebrity in marine affairs, named Bernard Renaud, and 
whose skill was so great that Colbert several times prevailed on 
the king to allow him to attend the council, now proposed to 
bombard Algiers. He knew the art, as yet, but imperfectly ; and 
upon examination was subjected to that kind of raillery that is 
the portion of inventors— but he had a zealous persuasion which 



THE TURKS REACH VIENNA. 159 

overcame the reluctance of the council, and he was permitted 
to make the experiment. Renaud caused five vessels to be con- 
structed smaller than those of the usual size, but stronger, as 
they were without decks, a false deck being placed in the hold ; 
upon this hollow places were made for the mortars. Duquesne 
was entrusted with the enterprise, and expected it to turn out a 
failure ; but both he and the Algerines were astonished by the 
effect — the destruction of a great part of their town. Thus we 
see how, under the fostering care of Colbert, the marine was ad- 
vanced within a few years ; while under Vauban the art of for- 
tifications had been brought to bear upon more than 100 citadels. 
During the progress of these improvements, the fine arts also 
flourished. But, as it is my intention to present my reader with 
a section at the end of this book, on that subject, I have not 
thought it well to distract attention by introducing it at the ex- 
pense of breaking in upon the accounts of these wars. For this 
reason I have abstained from the private memoirs of the court, 
which I purpose within a few pages to resume. 

I have lately said that the persecution of the protestants in 
France continued. Louis considered it his policy to keep them 
down, so as to render them incapable of doing mischief to him. 
But, to show what sort of principles actuated him, he encouraged 
the German protestants, that the governments there might be 
distracted. He had now afresh incited the Turks to invade the 
empire, that trembled under an irruption of 200,000 barbarians, 
who destroyed every thing in their passage, and penetrated to 
the very gates of Vienna. The King of Poland having married 
a French wife, as she had been slighted by the court of Ver- 
sailles, threw her influence into the scale of the empire, and the 
King of Poland therefore helped the house of Austria. This im- 
mediately set afloat French intrigue, to secure the queen at any 
price ; and the consequence was a perpetual altercation between 
the respective continental interests, for the remainder of this 
poor king's inglorious reign. The feeble emperor fled to Lintz, 
thence to Passau, leaving the Duke of Lorraine, with his bands 
of roving mercenaries, to do as well as he could. Cara Musta- 
pha, the Turkish commander, would soon have taken this capital 
of the empire. Louis' pride and passion was to be protector of 
the sovereigns of Europe ; and he had calculated, in fermenting 
this fresh trouble to the house of Austria, that his old enemy, 
the feeble emperor, would be compelled to implore his aid. 

Under an affectation of generosity, he ordered the siege of 
Luxembourg to be raised, that his forces might be ready " to 
promote the happiness of Christendom ! " In truth, he wished 
to bargain with the fugitive emperor, as the price of his help, that 
the dauphin should be made King of the Romans. He there- 
fore permitted Spain, the Poles under John Sobieski, and the 



160 THE FRENCH INVADE FLANDERS. 

mercenaries under Charles V. duke of Lorraine, to attack the 
Ottomans, who presently put those barbarians to flight. Leo- 
pold returned with no great dignity to his capital, so cowardly 
abandoned, and just met the folks coming out of church, where 
a service in the presence of John Sobieski had been performed, 
the preacher taking for the text of his sermon — " There was 
a man sent from God, whose name was John / " The gallant 
King of the Poles had displayed the usual bravery of that perse- 
cuted race, and with but a handful of men, on September 12, 
1683, put to flight the immense army of the crescent ; not above 
600 men falling on the side of the cross. 

This business over, Louis thought it was unnecessary any 
longer to observe appearances, and he therefore at once directed 
D'Humieres to enter Flanders, and begin hostilities. The mar- 
shal commenced with bombarding the towns of Luxembourg, 
Courtray, and Dixmude. He seized upon Treves, and destroyed 
its fortifications, alleging that he was only carrying out the treaty 
of Nimeguen ! The imperialists and Spaniards negociated with 
him at Ratisbon, where the violations of the peace of Nimeguen 
were so far commuted as to be changed into a truce for 20 
years. By virtue of this arrangement the King of France kept 
Luxembourg and its principality. Louis had, by his insolent 
rapacity, made enemies of the sovereigns of Europe, but not 
one so clear-headed, so persevering, and so effectual, as the 
Prince of Orange. 

About now great hopes existed at Paris that Charles II., 
the unworthy King of England, would declare himself, what he 
had long in private been, a true Roman Catholic. Louis XIV. 
openly said at table that such an event was about to take place ; 
and the Archbishop of Rheims told the English nobility at Paris 
that their king was unquestionably a papist. The Grand Prior 
of France was sent over to encourage our monarch, who justly 
thought the influence of the Dutchess of Portsmouth more 
likely to establish Charles's faith. In the introduction he had 
to her from his brother, the Duke of Vendome, the archbishop 
had been more free than was pleasing to Charles. It is under- 
stood his overtures were not exactly of such a nature as corre- 
sponded with his vow of celibacy ; and that on an unexpected 
entrance of the king, his majesty's purity was shocked by that 
which led him instantly to send the high priest out of England. 
Notwithstanding, afterwards, the king exhibited more fondness 
for this concubine than he had ever done before in public. 

Charles had a humour in his leg, at first thought to be gout ; 
so that he began to discontinue his walks in the park ; instead of 
which he amused himself in his laboratory with chemical expe- 
riments. On the night of February 1, he went to Lady Ports- 
mouth's, and asked for "a porringer of spoon-meat :" he said 



CHARLES II. DIES A PAPIST. 161 

it was too strong, and he could not sleep that night. In the 
morning, Dr. King, a physician, and a good chemist, who had 
been ordered to attend upon Charles, in the course of his efforts 
to find out a process to fix mercury, on his arrival, discovered 
incoherence in the king's speech. Being uneasy about it, he 
went to tell Lord Peterborough, who requested his immediate 
return to the royal chamber. The doctor had scarcely arrived, 
when the king fell down in a fit of apoplexy. Seeing that, if a 
minute was lost, the patient must die, King ventured to trans- 
gress the law, rather than leave Charles to perish, and therefore 
immediately bled him. As the king recovered from that fit, the 
privy council commended the physician, and ordered him £1,000. 
(By the bye, he never got it!) The physicians considered a 
return of the disease certain, and that it would prove fatal, 

The Bishop of London now talked seriously with the royal 
reprobate; but, Burnet says, the prelate was so cold that no 
effect was produced. Sancroft expostulated more warmly, ex- 
horting him to repentance, as he was going to be judged by 
One who was no respecter of persons. The next was Bishop 
Ken, who addressed him while Lady Portsmouth sat on the 
king's bed, offering him the attentions of a wife. But the king 
would answer neither of the three. Within a day, another fit 
led the physicians to say to the Duke of York that his brother 
could not live through the day. At the battle of Worcester, 
one Huddlestone, a popish priest, had mainly contributed to 
Charles's escape ; so that he had been excepted from all penal 
acts against the papists. Seeing the state of the king, he was 
now brought to a room underneath that in which his majesty 
lay, and when told what was to be done, he was in great confu- 
sion, as he had no "host" with him; so he hasted to another 
priest who lived close by, to borrow a God. He gave him a pix 
with a host in it, and the latter became so flurried that he ran 
out of Whitehall in such haste as to run up against a post, and 
was taken for a madman. As soon as Huddlestone had made 
his preparations, the duke whispered in the king's ear; upon 
which Charles ordered all, except the Earls of Bath and Fever- 
sham, to leave the room, and the door was double-locked. 
Every body else was kept out for half an hour ; the door only 
being opened once, when Lord Feversham asked for a glass of 
water. Cardinal Howard told Burnet at Rome that Huddle- 
stone made the king go through certain acts of contrition, and, 
after such a confession as he could make, gave him absolution 
and the other sacraments. The host had stuck in the king's 
throat, and that was the reason of their suddenly wanting a glass 
of water. Extreme unction was hastily administered. 

Charles professed to derive much ease from these ceremo- 
nials, and told Huddlestone he had saved him twice — first his 



162 PROTESTANT ABSOLUTION OF SINS. 

body, and now his soul. He then begged to know whether op 
not the priest required a public declaration of his dying in 
the church of Rome ? Huddlestone dissuaded him from this, 
and undertook to satisfy the world. 

The company were now suffered to come in to behold the 
constancy with which Charles II. went through the agonies of 
death : it amazed all who knew how he had lived, and was then 
partly attributed to his deriving some comfort from having 
made his will. Bishop Ken tried to awaken the sinking king's 
conscience, and the elevation of his thoughts and expressions 
caused the bishop to seem like one inspired. But, though all 
the rest who were present were greatly affected by his ejacula- 
tions and prayers, the dying sinner alone seemed indifferent; 
and, being frequently pressed to take the sacrament, the king 
always declined, saying he was too weak. Ken then pressed 
him to say he died in the communion of the church of Eng- 
land ; to which Charles made no reply. The bishop then asked 
him if he desired absolution of his sins ? Burnet's appreciation 
of this " church principle," himself bishop of Salisbury, seems 
highly edifying, for he says, Charles, seeing it could do him no 
hurt, had it pronounced over him. I am very sure it could 
do him no good — for such a daring assumption of divine autho- 
rity, and that moreover to one who did not even confess his sins, 
never had God's blessing yet, and never will. The bishop adds, 
and I am so far glad there were men honest and scrupulous 
enough, that by some Ken was blamed, seeing the king ex- 
pressed no sorrow for his past life. 

Ken also was blamed for presenting the Duke of Richmond, 
Charles's son by Lady Portsmouth, to receive the patriarchal 
blessing ! Many who were in the room upon this called out 
that the king was their common father, and then kneeled down 
and asked his blessing, which he gave them. He complained of 
being inwardly burnt up, but certainly in a decent manner. The 
only word savouring of religion which escaped him was that he 
hoped he should climb up to heaven's gates ! He now seemed 
to gather up his remaining strength to speak to the Duke of 
York, and a silence pervaded the room : he expressed his kind- 
ness to him, and the joy with which he turned over every thing 
to him. He recommended Lady Portsmouth over and over again 
to him, saying how he had loved her, and yet loved her to the 
last ; and besought his brother in the most touching manner to 
be very kind to her, and her son. He recommended his other 
children to him; and said, " Let not poor Nelly starve ! " But he 
said nothing of the queen (well observes Burnet), nor one word 
of his people, nor of his servants, nor of those disagreeable 
things, debts. He continued in agony till February 6, 1684-5, 
when he died, in the 54th year of his age, having reigned 25 
years. 



163 

There were many reports of poison having been administered 
to him, so that the body was opened, and some blue spots were 
discovered on the stomach. This it is pretended the surgeons 
smuggled out of the way, and Le Fevre, a French physician, 
made an incision on a black place in the king's shoulder, which 
they found was all mortified. Short, another physician, strongly 
suspected foul play; he was a papist; this rather tended to 
strengthen the idea, as the allegation was that it was by that 
party he had been poisoned. As he had talked too freely of 
what he observed in the dissection of the body, Burnet says, 
he was immediately sent for by a popish patient, who persuaded 
him to take a glass of wine, of which the talkative physician 
eventually died. But, lingering a short time, he himself told two 
or three brother physicians that he was poisoned, on account 
of what he had discovered relative to the late king. 

Disgusting recitals are given of pieces of the body of Charles 
being kept about in the scullery for several days ; his funeral 
was very mean ; he did not lie in state ; no " mournings" were 
given ; the expenses were less than for an ordinary nobleman. 
The bishop, though it was understood Charles was poisoned by 
the papists, acquits James II. of knowing any thing about it. 
He says that Mr. Henley, a Hampshire gentleman, told him 
that when the Dutchess of Portsmouth came over to England, 
five years afterwards, he asked her honestly her opinion. She 
answered, that she was always pressing the king to make both 
himself and people easy by a full agreement with the parliament, 
and he had come to a final resolution to send away his brother 
and call a parliament, that was to have been executed the day 
after he fell into that fit of which he died. The duchess was 
sworn to secrecy, and never mentioned it until she confessed ; 
and she thought her confessor used the information, with his 
party, to prevent sending the duke away. 

Thus died King Charles II., one of the most remarkable in- 
stances of the change of fortune on record. For the first 12 
years of his life, bred up with the splendours of royalty ; after 
which he passed 18 years of misery, in the loss of his father and 
his crown, with all the attendant distresses of want and depend- 
ance. After the battle of Worcester, he wandered about Eng- 
land from place to place ; and, getting at length safely off, with 
enough to crush a tender spirit, at Paris, Cologne, or Brussels, 
he never seemed to lay any thing to heart. During his exile, he 
so gave himself up to follow his pleasures that, if Cromwell 
would have granted him a handsome pension, he would have 
made over to him all pretensions to the crown. He spent little 
of his time in reading or thinking. Under the mask of gentle- 
ness, a more heartless being never lived; and at length he 
became addicted to cruelty, never forgiving any offence against 



164 DEPRAVITY OF CHARLES II. 

himself. He abandoned himself to the most enormous vices ; 
and, although so notoriously faithless and profligate, was of that 
clever tact which could impose on every body by the fairness of 
his promises. He was so essentially wicked that it was his 
gratification to draw the young men of the noble families into 
vice, that he might have plenty of partners in his sins. He 
was, however, as a companion, tedious in the repetition of his 
stories, as he dwelt much on his numerous changes of fortune. 
It is true, very gracefully, but so frequently that the Earl of 
Rochester told him he wondered to see a man who had so good 
a memory, as to omit none of the minutiae of his oft-told tales, 
forget that he had told them to the same people the day before. 
Hence, he was fond of strangers and good listeners. 

His determinate love of France, and the delight he felt at 
seeing the progress of her marine, even leading to correspon- 
dence with Louis, and sending him naval instructions, showed 
little love to England. And his resolute depression of Holland 
evinced that he either little understood, or less cared for, Eng- 
land's weal. But the general and reasonable construction put 
upon his ever ready courting of Louis is that, hating anything 
which savoured of liberty, he wished to be upon such terms with 
the French court as would ensure their help at any time to put 
down his refractory subjects. Indeed he once told Lord Clifford 
that, if he must be in a state of dependence, he would greatly 
prefer being so to a generous and powerful prince than to 500 
of his own insolent subjects. The worst trait of this monarch 
was his hypocritical pretence to belong to the church of England, 
while reconciled to Rome : and what are we to think of Rome, 
that could accept and justify such dissimulation ? It is fair to 
say that some of these statements have been called in question ; 
such as the Duchess of Portsmouth's sitting on the dying king's 
bed, his having been poisoned, &c. But the general fairness of 
Burnet, and his possessing the best of opportunities, are ac- 
knowledged by nearly all men of reading. Dairy mple, to relieve 
the king's memory, denies- it was his concubine sat on the bed, 
and says it was the queen. Most people would say this makes 
matters worse, as it only heaps upon Charles's head a heavier 
load of hypocrisy. The Earl of Aylesford, too, abusively contro- 
verted Burnet's statements ; and James II., in his memoirs, says 
that " his dying brother sent for and spoke kindly to the queen." 
Yes, after having outraged all decency, in insult and ill-treat- 
ment, throughout a long and shameless course of profligacy, it 
is mighty fine to talk as if a few sugared words could atone for 
years of infidelity ! However, Burnet is corroborated by Mr. 
Henley, who was a gentleman of high honour, and the father of 
the lord-keeper ; and the Earl of Hardwicke related that he had 
heard the Duke of Richmond, the son of the Dutchess of Ports- 



THE WRITERS OF THE DAY. 165 

mouth, tell these matters just as we find them in Burnet. Ano- 
ther contemporary, Dr. Wellwood, gives an account closely cor- 
responding with the foregoing particulars. In short, the whole 
bent of history agrees in representing this bad man as a selfish 
and witty profligate, totally devoid of any fixed generous princi- 
ple; and that no character was ever, in few words, better described 
than that of Charles by Rochester, that " he never said a foolish 
thing, and never did a wise one." Voltaire says, Charles de- 
clared himself to be a papist, out of complaisance to his brother 
and his mistresses — but that it was immaterial to him, as he was 
a deist. Evelyn, in his Diary for Feb. 6, says, "The king died. 
I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, 
gaming, and all dissoluteness, and, as it were, total forgetfulness 
of God (it being Sunday evening), which this day se'nnight I 
was witness of. The king sitting and toying with his concu- 
bines Portsmouth, Cleaveland, and Mazarine. And a French boy 
singing love songs ; whilst above twenty of the great courtiers, 
and other dissolute persons, were at Basset round a large table, 
with a bank of at least 2,000 in gold before them." This 
occurred that day week before this profligate hoped in his dying 
moments he should yet " climb up to heaven's gate !" 

Four earls, Rochester, Roscommon, Halifax and Dorset, were 
poets; in contrast with such writers of the day, Wordsworth 
said : — 

Great men have been among us ; hands that penned, 

And tongues that uttered, wisdom ; better none : 

The latter Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, 

Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. 

These moralists could act and comprehend ; 

They knew how genuine glory was put on ; 

Taught us how rightfully a nation shone 

In splendour ; what strength was, that would not bend 

Bat in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, 

Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. 

Perpetual emptiness ! unceasing change ! 

No single volume paramount, no code, 

No master spirit, no determined road ; 

But equally a want of books and men ! 

The Prince of Orange appeared determined to humble the 
proud King of France : indeed, who can wonder at this determi- 
nation when the treatment he had received from Louis is remem- 
bered! He succeeded in forming an alliance with the emperor, the 
Duke of Lorraine, the King of Spain, and the Duke of Savoy. 
The pope encouraged this league, though he did not openly join 
it, as did Venice, and all the Italian states. Louis was thus sur- 
rounded with enemies, having a friend and ally only in James II. 
In Poland and England alone did the liberty of the people go on 
with monarchy. Many sovereigns had, by different methods, 



166 ACCESSION OF JAMES II. 

changed the religion of their countries. Louis XIV. encouraged 
James II. to aim at absolute power, which the body of Jesuits 
urged him to attain by re-establishing their religion in England. 

On his accession, the usual courtly scenes were gone through : 
the king pouring forth his praises on " the church of England, 
as a friend to monarchy, which he would defend and maintain 
as it was established by law." In all the pulpits of England 
" the drum ecclesiastic" was now beat. One universal shout 
consoled the timid — " We have the word of a king." The peo- 
ple again forgetting that higher axiom — " Put not your trust in 
princes." All fears were given to the -wind, and, in gratitude, 
the great mother, the university of Oxford, promised to obey 
the king " without limitations or restrictions." Within the 
first week of James's reign two flagrant and illegal proceedings 
were perpetrated by him ; but as the clergy, all over England, 
had been up to address the new king, " none durst complain." 
The second Sunday after he came to the throne, to the surprise 
of the whole court, he went openly to mass ! The people were 
deceived by an appearance of spirit in his intercourse with the 
court of France, as he seemed not to be governed by French 
counsels, but to keep a perfect equality with the grand monarque. 
He directed our envoys at Paris to observe the utmost punc- 
tilio ; to let him know exactly how they were treated, that a pre- 
cisely similar line of conduct should be adopted at the court 
of St. James's towards French envoys, &c. It was adduced as a 
high mark of independence. Louis knew his man, turned up 
his nose, and told the Duke of Villeroi that, after all the fine 
things said about James, he was just as willing to take his money 
as his brother had been. His flatterers at home bounced about 
James being a martial prince, who loved glory, and would soon 
humble France, &c. The king pretended an earnest desire to live 
in harmony with the Prince of Orange, his son-in-law. James's 
coronation was fixed for St. George's day. At first he would not 
consent to receive the sacrament after the protestant form, but 
it is said, on consulting his priests, they allowed him to do so, 
and to take the oath, provided he took it fully meaning to break 
it, or had some reservation in his mind ! The crown was too 
large for him, so that it fell down over his eyes; the canopy car- 
ried over him broke ; two or three minor events happened ; and 
the son he had by Mrs. Sedley died on that day. These were 
considered ill omens. 

The year 1685 must ever be reckoned as a period of emi- 
nent peril to the interests of protestantism. In February the 
King of England had declared himself a papist ; in June, the pro- 
testant elector-palatine dying without issue, the dignity passed 
to the house of Newburgh, a most bigotted papist family. In 
October, the King of France re-called the edict of Nantes 
(which will presently be more diffusely entered upon). And in 



PROTESTANTISM IN DANGER. 167 

December, under the terror of Louis' threats, the Duke of Savoy 
re-called the edict his father had granted the Vaudois. Old 
Rouvigny, after the peace of Nimeguen, became alarmed at the 
precipitancy he discovered relative to religious matters ; and 
waited upon Louis to beg a " full" audience of him. It was 
granted, and it lasted several hours. 

He was " deputy-general of the churches," and it may 
therefore be supposed had the best means of informing the 
king on all points connected with the French protestants. 
Pointing out how happy France had been during his father's 
reign, which religious quiet had now lasted so many years, he 
showed Louis their numbers, their industry and wealth ; their 
readiness on all occasions to advance the revenue. That, in fact, 
all the peace Louis had with Rome might be traced to them; be- 
cause, if they were rooted out, the pope would acquire as much 
influence in France as he possessed in Spain or Portugal. He 
begged to undeceive him if he thought they would bow to his 
authority in matters of conscience — no, they would leave the 
kingdom, and carry their wealth with them; blood would be shed 
profusely — civil troubles engendered ; and that which might go 
down to remote history as the most glorious of reigns would be 
disfigured and defaced, and be represented as a scene of blood 
and horror. Louis listened attentively, but asked for no expla- 
nations; and rather coldly said he took Rouvigny's freedom well, 
since it flowed from a desire to serve him. But frankly told him 
that he considered it indispensably necessary to convert all his 
subjects, and extirpate heresy ; and that, if the accomplishment 
of this desirable object called for cutting off one of his own 
hands, he would submit to it. The audience ending thus, Rou- 
vigny let it be generally understood among his friends, that they 
might know what they had to expect. 

I remember well when the late eccentric Sir Joseph Yorke 
told the house of commons, who had ventured to pass some bill 
obnoxious to him, that, thank G — , there was a greater power in 
England than that of king, lords, and commons — viz. fashion. 
That said power is now in the ascendant, to repudiate the crimes 
of protestantism — the very designation is an offence in the nos- 
trils of many of the church of England. We old-fashioned folks 
— so credulous have we been — always thought the church was 
meant as a barrier against popery — little dreaming that the 
old reformers retained all they could of the ceremonials of the 
overthrown faith, calculating on better days, when, furbished up, 
these weapons could again be produced with greater hopes of 
success ! I say, at the risk of the unpopularity of the remark, 
that the attention of my reader is now called to events with 
which no protestant can be too well acquainted. In enter- 
ing into the history of the revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
a fearful sample of the evils of intolerance will be disclosed. 



168 CONDITION OF THE HUGUENOTS, 

Whether we be of the number of those who hold it as a duty in- 
cumbent on states to maintain and watch over one favoured form 
of religion ; or associate our ideas with others, who consider it 
TJzzah-like to attempt by human means to prop up the ark of 
God; all devout minds ought to agree that attempts to set up 
and defend even the best of institutions by harsh and unneces- 
sary expedients are ill calculated to attain the desired end. The 
history of the church in all ages has abundantly shown the wis- 
dom with which Jesus declared his kingdom was not of this 
world, so that his servants may not fight. And never was there 
a more striking exemplification of the folly of persecution than 
in those exciting events by which Louis XIV, vainly endeavoured 
to bring about uniformity of religious faith and practice. 

How stinging is the reproach of an open derider of the 
faith of Christ, that it is a melancholy consideration the chris- 
tian church has always been torn by dissensions, and that so 
much blood should be shed by hands destined to carry the 
symbols of the god of peace ! Voltaire goes on to contrast this 
furious zeal with that of paganism, which, with all its darkness, 
occasioned but little blood to be spilled — but that of animals ; 
and, with all its sacrifices, never produced civil wars. If hatred 
to real religion here leads on the philosopher to a colouring 
that may be considered as overwrought ; while we look back at 
Druidicial doings, or glance at the present sacrifices to Jugger- 
naut, and all the intermediate dreadful delusions, which, if self- 
inflicted, must still be charged to the account of heathenism — 
there is yet enough of truth to cover us with shame. And the 
cruelties promoted in all ages, and under all circumstances, 
where popery has had the power, one would think ought to leave 
little common ground between the papist and the Anglican 
clergy. But the latter are bending every effort— knowingly or 
ignorantly — towards fraternization with Rome : and between 
them and those sounder minds and truer believers who deplore 
the diminished lustre of the reformed church, and who would 
build up her walls, and restore her waste places, there can be 
but little communion. 

From the time of the accession of Henry IV. to the throne 
of France, the protestants had achieved the form of a body 
politic. That good king had been brought up a Calvinist, and, 
rightly understanding his principles, could only be disposed for 
civil and religious liberty to all. Therefore, while cherishing the 
Huguenots, then so numerous it is said, as to form nearly a 
twelfth part of the nation, he restrained the perpetual tendency 
of popery to persecution, and endowed the minority of his peo- 
ple with considerable privileges. Many powerful lords were pro- 
testants, as were entire cities and fortified places, among which 
latter Rochelle may be mentioned, important for its commerce 
and alliance with England. By Henry III., fourteen places of 



AND PRIVILEGES OF THE CALVINISTS. 169 

strength had been granted them in Dauphine ; Montauban and 
Nismes in Languedoc ; Saumur, and others. In the year 1598, 
Henry IV. granted the edict of Nantes, that may be called the 
voluntary recognition by that monarch of the many accumulated 
privileges which the hunted religionists had nobly wrung, in 
different periods, from the furious oppressors of other days. 
The chief features of this important grant were that every lord 
of a fief (one who held under the crown, and whose power ex- 
tended to capital punishments,) was free to exercise his own 
religion within his own castle. And every other lord, without 
capital jurisdiction, might have a little domestic church assem- 
bled, of not more than thirty persons. Calvinists might print 
books without a license ; they were declared capable of digni- 
ties (Henry created De la Tremouelle and De Roni dukes and 
peers of France) and offices in the state. They had a separate 
chamber in the parliament of Paris, consisting of a president 
and 16 counsellors, to take cognizance of all causes concerning 
Huguenots : it was called the chamber of the edict, and was enti- 
tled to respect for its impartiality, though very few protestants 
were among them. At Castres they were allowed a little parlia- 
ment. They had courts of justice at Grenoble and Bordeaux; 
their churches were permitted to assemble in synods, like the 
Gallican church; and they were favoured with several other 
advantages. 

After the deplorable death of Henry IV., under the troubles 
of a divided court, the Huguenots were not always guided by 
the most judicious counsels, and some of the lords of that party 
were undoubtedly ambitious and turbulent. Truth obliges the 
confession that, themselves protected against insults of every 
kind, they sometimes joined factious tumults, opposing the court, 
even underhandedly soliciting alliance and friendship with Eng- 
land and Holland. Thus entertaining schemes scarcely consistent 
with proper respect for the authority of their monarch. To this 
undesirable state of things much of the evils of those civil broils 
and party contests which subsisted in the reign of Louis XIII. 
may be attributed. Hence Richelieu had always held that there 
could be no peace for France until the protestants were mate- 
rially lowered ; in fact, unless their privileges were crushed. 
This haughty minister, therefore, after many struggles, in 1628, 
contrived to annex Rochelle to the crown of France. Being the 
protestant stronghold, from this fatal event the reformed party 
in France, left defenceless and naked, dates its decline. Had 
the monarch been satisfied with depriving the protestants of 
their strongholds, and continued to protect them in the exercise 
of their liberty of conscience, they might have sat down with 
comparative quiet under the infliction. But, says Mosheim, the 
court of France, and the despotic views of its minister, were not 

L 



170 FAVOURABLE EDICTS. 

satisfied with this success ; and, having destroyed what had 
been devised as security for the maintenance of religious privi- 
leges, because it was thought, or found, detrimental to the 
supreme authority of the state, they went farther, and, disre- 
garding all royal engagements, perfidiously invaded all the pro- 
testant privileges which were purely of a spiritual and religious 
nature. By exhortations, alluring promises, and artful interpre- 
tations of those doctrines of popery most obnoxious to the pro- 
testants, they were insidiously endeavoured to be brought over 
to Rome ; and, when all these efforts proved abortive, barbarous 
laws were put into execution. The bishops were foremost in 
the work of bigotry and blood, which now forced many of the 
protestants to yield their faith to armed legions ; while others 
fled from the storm, deserting, in dismay, their families, their 
friends, and their country. But, I am happy to say, by far the 
greater number persevered in that religion which their godly 
ancestors had delivered from the manifold superstitions of the 
church as by law established. 

The edict of Nantes remained, indeed, supported in some 
respects by another granted by Louis XIII., after he had taken 
Rochelle from the protestants. This however Richelieu caused 
to be entitled "the edict of grace" in opposition to others that 
had savoured more of being treaties than grants. In the last 
the king speaks in the style of one who pardons, and while 
forbidding the new religion at Rochelle, the isle of Rhe, Oleron, 
Privas, and Pamiers, he confirms the edict of Nantes, that 
the reformed had always looked to as their charter. Riche- 
lieu's failing to sweep away this charter of protestant liberty, 
when he had the power, is attributed, by Voltaire, not to 
indifference, but to a higher motive, as he aimed at the glory 
of subduing minds, which he thought would result from the 
superiority of his understanding, of his power, and of his 
politics. He meant first to gain the ministers of religion to 
see that the Roman Catholic religion was not criminal in the 
sight of God, and then to try a little mutual concession — to 
seduce them by presents and pensions, to unite them, at least 
in outward appearance, to the one church, leaving it to time to 
effect the rest. On finding the absurdity of his day-dreams, 
perhaps stung thereto the more from the vexation of disappoint- 
ment, he resolved to crush where he could not allure ; and was 
only prevented from attempting to carry his design into execu- 
tion by the interposition of more imperative concerns. And 
death overtaking the great schemer amidst storms and perils, 
the poor protestants had rest round about. The controversies 
assumed another and more desirable form — ponderous tomes 
were published. By the " moral suasion" on one side it was 
hoped that the scales might fall from papistical eyes, and the 



EXASPERATION OF LOUIS XIV. 171 

Catholics were in their turn sanguine enough to aim at convert- 
ing the Huguenots. 

Of the former devastations and cruelties, all the remnant was 
disputes about building meeting-houses, schools, jurisdictions, 
burials, bells, and much such matters as, in many places in Eng- 
land, now relieve the " independent" or " the " baptist" minister 
of the tedium of life by enabling him to keep up a constant bait- 
ing of the clergyman of the parish. As now, so then, it is recorded 
by the historians, " the reformed seldom gained their suit." Since 
the death of the father of Turenne, that Duke of Bouillon who was 
sovereign of Sedan, they had had no leader — they kept quiet dur- 
ing all the troubles of the Fronde and the civil wars. Mazarin, 
as I have elsewhere said, admitted the Calvinists into places of 
trust ; and the great Colbert, the father and founder of commer- 
cial prosperity to France, employed a considerable number of 
Huguenots in arts, manufactures, and the navy. By such wis- 
dom, the prevalent rage for controversy abated, and the gradual 
development of the resources of France, under the vigorous 
reign of Louis XIV., chased away the fiery zeal of religious 
partizanship. It is to be feared this was also diminished by the 
indifference that too often succeeds the air of ridicule wits throw 
over a profession of religion. The Psalms were displaced by 
songs ; the former, under Francis, had been used by the court, 
and now were, like the cast-off dresses of the courtiers, turned 
over to the populace. The Jansenists attacked both the Jesuits 
and the Huguenots; and then the Jesuits, no way backward, flew 
upon the Jansenists and the Calvinists — which latter were ever 
ready for both sects of papists. The " philosophers," as they 
called themselves, but who in reality could not be called lovers 
of wisdom, as they rejected its only revelation ; with the Alsa- 
tian Lutherans, who fiercely attacked the other divisions of con- 
troversy ; created together a considerable paper war. This, if 
it for some time afforded amusement to the idle, met with the 
usual fate of controversy — by no very slow degrees, sinking into 
a state of indifference. 

Louis had been exasperated by the ceaseless attempts of his 
clergy; the perpetual insinuations of the Jesuits and the court 
of Rome; and by, not the least influential, the Chancellor le Tel- 
lier and his son Louvois. Their hatred to the reformed is partly 
attributed to the fact of Colbert's protecting them because they 
were good citizens. The king was utterly ignorant of their 
doctrines; but, with our royal pedant James I., who, on being 
twitted with his lapse from Calvinism, which in reality too much 
promoted liberty, said he had found out that toryism was the 
only religion for a king. So Louis was a stranger to their views 
and wishes, and looked upon them as setters-forth of some 
strange doctrine, and therefore endeavoured to put them down 



172 PERSECUTING SPIRIT OF LOUVOIS. 

indirectly. Thus, first, the privilege of meeting together was 
denied them, then they were prevented intermarrying with the 
daughters of Catholics. Upon this the witty Voltaire expresses 
some surprise, as it argued an ignorance of the power of that 
sex, which the court in other respects knew perfectly. The 
bishops and intendants, by plausible contrivances, endeavoured 
to get the children of the Huguenots into their hands. Orders 
were now given to Colbert to turn out all dissenters from em- 
ployment in the revenue departments ; they were excluded from 
the corporations ; they were shunned as far as practicable ; and 
edicts (something reminding one of the mark set upon Cain) 
were issued, forbidding violence against them — thus easing op- 
pression by the forms of justice ! Money was found a very 
powerful weapon : it converted Pelisson, who had been a long 
adherent of the Huguenots ; and by a singular coincidence his 
conversion was just in the nick of time to open a path to 
great preferment. The king entrusted him with immense sums, 
which may be called " conversion money" in the items of state 
expenditure. 

Aided by Cardinal Camus, by means of a judicious distri- 
bution of small sums, it is astonishing how many saw their 
errors ! Regular quarterly accounts of the power of this suasion 
attested the activity of the master of requests, whose ermine 
had now fallen upon the shoulders of the modern Jovius. Ano- 
ther edict permitted children at seven years of age to abjure the 
errors of dissent ; numbers were seized and frightened into any 
avowal ; or coaxed, by cakes and gingerbread, to choose between 
those knotty points which had puzzled the wisest heads ever 
covered by wigs or cowls; finally troops were quartered on refrac- 
tory parents. In consequence of the violence and cruelty of 
those vile characters, Le Tellier and his son Louvois, four years 
before, a great many families from Poitou, Saintonge, and the 
neighbouring provinces, abandoning their homes, quitted the 
kingdom. The fugitives were kindly and wisely received by 
the English people, the Danish and Dutch governments — and 
Amsterdam alone undertook to build 1,000 houses for the per- 
secuted Huguenots. But the cruel French government, begin- 
ning to apprehend danger from the banishment of mechanical 
talent, denounced the punishment of the galleys against such 
as should they attempt to leave the kingdom. A great number of 
Calvinist families sold their estates, and immediately a pro- 
clamation appeared ordering them all to be confiscated, should 
the sellers attempt to leave within a year. The ministers were 
turned out of their pulpits upon the most frivolous pretences, 
and the rents and endowments left by the piety of their fore- 
fathers were seized, and, by the government, applied to the 
hospitals of the kingdom. (Well, vile as this robbery was, it 



RELIGIOUS PERSECUTION. 173 

was better than plundering the monasteries here at the Refor- 
mation, and dividing the spoils among the needy and greedy- 
courtiers !) Schoolmasters were not permitted any longer to 
take boarders ; dissenting ministers were loaded with fresh taxes ; 
protestants, all over the kingdom, who held public offices, were 
dismissed ; nor were any to be longer allowed to act as notaries, 
attornies, or counsellors. Every protestant minister was to be 
punished if he made a proselyte. 

Pelisson kept sending immense sums into the country to 
purchase fresh converts. Louvois, finding that many were 
faithful to their principles, and would yet dare to meet together 
to worship the God of their fathers, let loose the soldiers upon 
them, and the two or three hundred who here and there met 
were soon put to flight. The grandson of the man, Chamier, 
whose hand had drawn up the edict of Nantes, was caught, and, 
for no offence but being descended from a worthy progenitor, 
was broken on the wheel ! In Languedoc a minister named 
Chomel was served so ; three were sentenced to suffer the same 
punishment with him, and ten to be hanged, but they escaped 
by flight. Louvois now hit upon an improvement — it was to 
let the soldiers loose to live upon the protestants at discretion. 
They were " to avoid rape and the killing them," by the in- 
structions of the merciful government. This frightened a vast 
number into conformity, which so gratified the court that they 
pushed on this new plan in Guienne, Languedoc, and Dauphine, 
where the protestants mostly were. The letting loose of the 
dragoons obtained the name of the dragonade. Consternation 
pervaded the Huguenots ; they were worn down by one attack 
after another, by dragoons, bishops, and clergy, who, as the 
phrase went, called upon all protestants to abandon heresy, being 
required in the king's name to be of his religion. Those who 
would not yield, were not only stripped of all they had, but 
were not allowed to sleep, and were driven about from place to 
place ; the women were taken into nunneries, where they were 
almost starved, and whipped, and very barbarously treated. Un- 
happily, many of the protestants signed recantations, renouncing 
the errors of Luther and Calvin. Burnet was an eye-witness of 
these awful scenes ; but, lest his accounts should be considered 
partial, I have not inserted any statement which is not verified 
by other writers, particularly by Voltaire, who hated the pro- 
testants, and exhibits less sympathy with their sufferings than 
might have been expected from a lover of liberty. By Mosheim 
and other writers, too, I have been aided on this dreadful page 
of history. Burnet went over the greatest part of France, from 
Marseilles to Montpellier, thence to Lyons, and Geneva. 

He describes the dejection and dismay that characterised the 
protestants, by which you might even know them in the streets : 

l3 



174 THE FATHER OF DAGUESSEAU. 

such as tried to escape were seized — if men, they were con- 
demned to the gallies, if women, to monasteries. If any died 
who would not take the sacrament, after the popish fashion, in 
their last moments, their bodies were left in desolate places to 
be eaten by wolves — tremendous penalties preventing their 
being buried ! And as crime and cruelty seem always to en- 
crease by using, so, in this melancholy time, those public officers, 
who, in their early lives, had been mild and gentle, now became 
ferocious, laid aside the compassion of the christian, the breed- 
ing of the gentleman, and the common impressions of humanity. 
The popish clergy used the pulpit only to hound on the perse- 
cutor to his prey, and to exhibit their grovelling adulation of 
their king in strains of indecency and blasphemy, which shall 
not sully these pages. The frontiers were guarded with all 
possible care to prevent flight ; even Voltaire describes it as a 
kind of chace carried on within a large inclosure. While all 
this misery was in progress, the meetings of the reformed being 
dispersed — abjurations demanded — children torn from their 
parents, and the long catalogue of ills and shocking cruelties 
perpetrated which I have briefly touched upon, Louis, tramp- 
ling on the most solemn obligations, and regardless of-^all laws, 
human and divine, revoked formally the noted edict of Nantes. 
When old Le Tellier, the chancellor, put his official signature to 
the document, he cried out with an air of joy, Nunc dimittis, 8fc. ; 
or, in English, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in 
peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation ! " As this cruel 
and horrid exhibition of bigotry excites so justly our indigna- 
tion ; and as we naturally and justifiably transfer the feeling to 
that religion which could abet such deeds ; it is fair to state that 
there were some Roman Catholics whose natural sentiments of 
generosity and justice were not so far effaced as to extenuate 
these barbarities. 

Among these, Daguesseau, father of the celebrated chancellor 
of that name, has the honour to be ranked. Colbert appointed 
him intendant of the Limousin, and subsequently advanced 
him to the intendancies of Bordeaux and Languedoc. In the 
latter of which governments he had suggested to the great mi- 
nister the grand idea of uniting the ocean and the Mediterra- 
nean by means of that mighty work, the canal of Languedoc. 
In this melancholy persecution, he was distinguished by mildness, 
and only one person perished under his jurisdiction. Disgusted 
by these dragonades, and by the revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
he resigned his intendancy, and removed to Paris, where he con- 
tinued to enjoy the royal favour, and to be employed in offices 
of trust, and where he formed his celebrated son's youth, and 
watched over his manhood. 

In a letter from the ex-queen Christina, written on occasion 



COMPULSORY CONVERTS. 175 

of these enormities, is this passage : " I look upon France as a 
patient who undergoes the amputation of legs and arms as treat- 
ment for a disease which mildness and patience would entirely 
have cured." All the movements of this French monarch seem 
to have been merely directed to his own aggrandisement; for just 
then he had a quarrel with the pope, whom he was determined 
to humiliate on the one hand, while he was crushing Calvinism 
on the other. To say that the consequences of his persecution 
were prejudicial to the welfare of France would be unnecessary 
to such as read the Scriptures and believe in the converse of the 
proposition that righteousness exalteth a nation. 

If the aged father of Louvois rejoiced in the hope that vital 
religion was now put down, the son no less deceived himself in 
believing that any cordon he could draw around France would 
prevent the escape of those determined to fly. For despite of 
the guards, nearly 50,000 families left the land of their birth, 
seeking in various parts of Europe that religious liberty and 
humane treatment which their mother- country had so cruelly 
refused them. Those who could not escape were exposed to the 
brutality of the soldiers ; and what that has been in all ages the 
reader need not be told; with the addition of every other con- 
ceivable persecution, to exhaust their patience or subdue their 
courage. Under a feigned profession of popery, which their 
consciences revolted at, about 400,000 compulsory converts, who 
went to mass and took the sacrament, (who can wonder at the 
existence and spread of deism and infidelity ?) exhibited to the 
world the folly and sin of attempting to bind conscience, or 
compel credence. In such a manner did many revolt that, after 
receiving the host, they spit it out, for which numbers were 
burnt alive ; and others who would not receive the sacrament 
were drawn upon hurdles to execution. Their constancy was 
treated with insult, as well as cruelty ; and letters extant, written 
this year by Louvois, contain this and similar passages : " It is 
his majesty's pleasure that such as refuse to conform to his reli- 
gion be proceeded against with the utmost rigour, and that not 
the least indulgence be shown to those who affect the foolish 
glory of being the last to comply." This is just the old story — 
from the days of Nebuchadnezzar downwards — men are only per- 
secuted because they refuse to conform to the king's religion ! 

The Calvinists still occasionally assembled to sing their hymns 
of praise, without cornet, sackbut, or dulcimer, though the pe- 
nalty of death was annexed to that divine employ. Ministers 
who returned were either hanged or broken on the wheel, and 
a reward of 5,500 livres was offered to all who would inform 
against them. Voltaire indulges in certain sneering remarks 
against " schools of prophets," in the mountains of Cevennes 
and Vivares, where one De Serres kept a seminary. From 



¥ 



176 LIBERTY OF CONSCIENCE. 

what may be gathered, I make no doubt, Serres was one who 
served God with all his house ; because he taught the children 
committed to his care that "where two or three are gathered 
together in my name, my spirit shall be in the midst of them." 
These the philosopher of Ferney perhaps imagined were the 
mere words of Serres himself; for, with all his knowledge, this 
derider of truth was ignorant of Scripture, and, hating real re- 
ligion, seems ever ready to laugh at all scriptural expressions. 
And here who can forget those beautiful lines Cowper applied to 
Voltaire, with whom he contrasts the poor old bobbin-weaver — 
who, he says — 

<( Just knows, and knows no more, her bible true : 
A truth that brilliant Frenchman never knew !" 

The judicious reader must judge for himself, as to the pro- 
priety of the philosopher's representations of the " enthusiasm" 
of these " prophets;" whom he mocks because they were unable 
to remove mountains, and irreverently classes with those on 
divine record, saying these went according to " ancient usage 
and the rules of prophetic madness from age to age." I doubt 
not these Calvinists were self-denying christians, who saw in the 
flagrancies of the impudent papists all that Christianity teaches 
us to repudiate ; and that they were as much opposed to the 
daring presumption which substantially treats their ceremonials 
as a covering for all sin, as they were determined enemies to the 
enormities of the baptists of old. However, it appears the mi- 
nisters occasionally came back to strengthen the hands of their 
brethren in the Cevennes, and among them Claude Brousson, 
a man of eloquence and zeal. He was known among his coun- 
trymen as a powerful advocate for the truth, and was equally 
appreciated by foreigners among whom he sojourned. He 
seems now to have returned to reside among the faithful, and at 
his own residence set up a meeting of the leading Calvinists, 
after their churches had been demolished by the persecution of 
the day. He had fled to Geneva, and visited Lausanne and other 
countries, imploring the assistance and compassion of strangers 
for his suffering brethren. Shortly after his return, in conse- 
quence of his courageous defence of the protestants, and circula- 
tion of tracts in their favour, translating the New Testament, and 
preaching contrary to the edicts, he was seized, and, of course, 
found " guilty," and broken on the wheel ! — his cruel enemies 
having trumped up a charge of treason against him. 

So well did the Dutch understand the matter that the States 
honoured themselves by allowing a handsome annuity to his 
widow for life. Voltaire says, the cry of the persecuted was, 
" Liberty of conscience, and no taxes," and that, as this seduces 
the people every where, it justified the attempted extirpation of 



THE FRENCH REFUGEES. 177 

these dissenters. By the bye, it was a very good cry, and would 
be a great blessing for any well governed people to obtain. He 
then goes into some fresh instances of justifiable persecution 
against "these wretches — who were treated as they deserved, 
having been burnt alive, or broken upon the wheel !" 

The poor refugees, who had been driven from France, took 
their arts, manufactures, and wealth, among other nations. Al- 
most all the north of Germany, a country hitherto rude and 
idle, received a new face from the multitudes of refugees trans- 
planted thither, who peopled entire cities. Stuffs, lace, hats, 
stockings, formerly made in France, were now manufactured in 
these countries. Spitalfields, at London, was peopled entirely 
by French silk weavers, whose descendants to this day carry on 
that trade ; and the art of making crystal in perfection was lost 
in France, and went with the silk manufacture to London. 
Above 500,000 of the most intelligent, and every way respect- 
able, inhabitants, a prodigious quantity of specie, and, above all, 
those arts with which the enemies of France enriched them- 
selves, were thus lost to that country. Holland gained excellent 
officers and soldiers ; for the Prince of Orange had entire regi- 
ments of refugees. Some settled at the Cape of Good Hope, 
and others colonized in distant parts of the globe. 

" Thus," says the Duke of St. Simon, who lived amidst these 
horrors, and who reprobates this fatal revocation with the 
warmth of an enlightened statesman, and the indignation of a 
lover of truth and a man of humanity; " in this way, without 
the slightest pretext, the slightest necessity, was one-fourth of 
the whole kingdom to be depopulated ; its trade to be ruined ; 
the whole country to be abandoned to the public and avowed 
pillage of dragoons; the innocent of both sexes were to be 
devoted to the torture, and that by thousands; families were 
to be stripped of their possessions ; relations armed against 
each other; our manufactures to be transferred to strangers; 
and the world was to see crowds of their fellow creatures pros- 
cribed, naked, fugitive, guilty of no crimes, and yet seeking an 
asylum in foreign lands ; not in their own country, which was in 
the mean time subjecting to the gallies and to the lash the 
noble, the affluent, and the aged, the delicate and the weak, and 
in many cases, those who were distinguished for their piety, 
their knowledge, and their virtue ; and all this on no other ac- 
count than that of religion ! And still further to enhance the 
horrors of such proceedings, in this manner was every province 
to be filled with sacrilegious or perjured men ; those who were 
forced, or those who pretended willingly to conform, and who 
sacrificed their consciences to their worldly welfare and re- 
pose ; nay, such in the result were the abominations thus pro- 
duced, by obsequiousness and by cruelty, that the same space 



178 IMPOLICY, AS WELL AS CRUELTY, OF 

of 24 hours was sufficient, not unfrequently, to conduct men 
from tortures to abjuration, from abjuration to the holy com- 
munion; and an unhappy sufferer found a conductor and a 
witness, on these occasions, often in the person of the common 
hangman V The impolicy of this direful deed is now generally 
felt and allowed among the European nations. Mosheim re- 
marks that " this crying act of perfidy and injustice in a prince 
who, on other occasions, gave evident proofs of his equity, is 
sufficient to show, in their true and genuine colours, the spirit 
of the Romish church and of the Romish pontiffs, and the man- 
ner in which they stand affected to those whom they consider 
heretics." 

The professor of modern history at Cambridge, Mr. W. Smyth, 
in his admirable Lectures, has many remarks distinguished 
by manly eloquence ; and it is truly refreshing to witness the 
noble stand made against persecution for conscience sake in 
his various addresses to the future occupants of our parochial 
pulpits; delightful to the readers of his first-rate book, and 
honourable to speaker and hearer at the university. Would that 
I could transcribe many of them, clothed in language nervous, 
perspicuous, and surpassingly beautiful ! I will venture upon the 
last clause on this dismal subject : — 

" For some time the influence of this measure was fa- 
vourable to the world, though perhaps not so much in this 
[alluding to the impolicy of driving away so much mechanical 
talent] as in another respect. It inspired every state in 
Europe with a hatred of Louis, which materially assisted 
William III., not only in his efforts to establish the freedom 
of England, but at all times in his laudable ambition to re- 
sist the unlawful ambition of Louis. But this revolution, in 
its more natural and immediate effect, that of conveying an 
awful warning against intolerance, probably neither had at the 
time, nor ever will have, all the influence which it ought to have 
on the reflections of mankind. Indeed the effect produced for 
a long time was rather of an opposite nature. The two sects 
were but the more inflamed against each other: the protestants 
naturally supposed that the bigotry of their Roman Catholic 
opponents had no limits, and that they were justified in defend- 
ing themselves, and in establishing by any possible means their 
own predominancy. This could not be done without legal pro- 
visions and enactments of a very horrible nature in the first in- 
stance, and which were to remain on statute books long after 
the reasons which gave occasion to them had ceased to exist. 
Consequences like these could not be favourable to the general 
principles of toleration; these principles were in many instances 
grossly violated; and mankind have been subsequently benefitted 
by the example of the edict of Nantz, only in the way I have al- 



THE REVOCATION OF THE EDICT OF NANTES. 179 

ready described, in showing the impolicy of intolerance rather 
than the injustice of it. The impolicy at least was visible ; for 
to England and other countries were driven in exile many 
of the most valuable and respectable artisans and families of 
France." 

In allusion to these horrid cruelties, a celebrated French writer 
of the day, says : " All tender christians' hearts cry out aloud 
against these executions. All pronounce us a nation as barba- 
rous as we are frivolous — that know how to torture and cut 
capers, that go from a massacre of St. Bartholomew to a comic 
opera, and we are become the horror and contempt of Europe." 
After indulging in a large effusion of venom, and doubtless exag- 
geration, which in my opinion does more than any other matter 
throughout his celebrated "Age of Louis XIV." to lower our 
respect for him as a historian, Voltaire winds up his chapter 
on this melancholy leaf of history, with which I also quit the 
subject, thus : — 

" Marshal Villars, being recalled from Languedoc, was re- 
placed by Marshal Berwick. The ill success of the king's arms 
had emboldened the fanatics of Languedoc, who expected suc- 
cours from heaven, and received them from the allies. Money 
was remitted to them by the way of Geneva ; they had a pro- 
mise of officers from Holland and England ; and held intelli- 
gence in all the towns in the province. We may rank in the 
number of their greatest conspiracies that which they formed to 
seize the Duke of Berwick, and the intendant Baville, in Nimes; 
to cause Languedoc and Dauphine to revolt, and to introduce 
the enemy into these provinces. The secret was kept by up- 
wards of 1,000 conspirators: the indiscretion of a single person 
brought all to light. More than 200 died by the hands of the 
executioner : Marshal Berwick spared none of these unhappy 
wretches that came in his way. Some diedwith their arms in their 
hands, others upon wheels or amidst flames. A few, more given 
to prophecy than fighting, found means to escape into Holland: 
the French refugees there received them as messengers from 
heaven ; they came forth to meet them chaunting psalms, and 
strewing the way with boughs of trees. These prophets went 
afterwards to England, but, finding that the episcopal church 
there had too much affinity with that of Rome, they strove to 
make their own bear sway. Their confidence was so strong 
that, not doubting but with a great deal of faith great miracles 
might be wrought, they offered to raise a person from the dead, 
even any one chosen at pleasure. The people are everywhere 
the same, and the Presbyterians might have joined the fanatics 
in opposition to the church of England. The English ministry 
took the course which should always be taken with workers of 
miracles: they were allowed to take up a dead body in the church 



180 THE LATE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 

yard of the cathedral : the place was surrounded with guards, 
every thing passed judicially and in form, and the scene ended 
in sentencing the prophets to stand in the pillory. Meanwhile, 
in France, time, the prudence of the government, and the pro- 
gress of reason, have by degrees rendered the Calvinists quiet, 
their number is diminished, and the rage of their enthusiasm 
abated." 

In the Roman Catholic religion, softened down as is the 
mode of speaking of it now-a-days, there remain all the princi- 
ples which will ever break out into persecution, where the priest- 
hood has the power; witness the movements in France, in all 
ages. Under the protecting care of that good King Henry IV., 
through the instrumentality of the edict of Nantes, religion flou- 
rished for 87 years. This edict being repealed by Louis the 
wicked, in 1685, the sanguinary counter-edict of Fontainebleau 
wrought frightful misery till the great revolution ; for the decla- 
ration of Louis XV., in 1724, rather increased than diminished 
the cruelty of the former laws. This declaration consisted of 18 
articles, the gist of which was to forbid any other religion but 
popery in the kingdom of France, under the penalties of confis- 
cation of goods ; men to be sent to the galleys for life, and 
women to be " shorn and shut up for ever;" with terrible pu- 
nishments against all who would not turn informers. In short, 
I merely here introduce these remarks, to let my reader see the 
sad effect of the repeal of the edict of Nantes, which kept up 
the running fire of persecution for a century after the chief 
criminals were removed to the everlasting custody of the fourth 
angel (see Rev. xvi. 5-11). 

What rightly constituted mind can feel otherwise than 
transported with indignation, at the remembrance of the atro- 
cities committed in the blessed name of religion ! or fail to 
see what a daring piece of insolence it is for one man to at- 
tempt to coerce the conscience of another ! And if there be 
too great an affinity in many points, between the church of Eng- 
land and (as we had it the other day expressed in the Times 
newspaper) "the sister church of Rome," how delightful — 
what a green oasis in the desert — to turn to the sensibly ex- 
pressed and enlightened views of some of her dignitaries ! 
Though, in speaking truth of her well-paid defenders, the rod 
ought never to be spared ; never — never — may I be found to 
shrink from the manly avowal of delight with which such pas- 
sages as the following inspire respect for the liberal utterers. 
And our gratitude should flow to the Most High for the degree of 
freedom we are blessed with in a land of real liberty — the princi- 
ples being well understood, and the limits, upon the whole, well 
defined. Neither of which can be said of our noisy and fiery 
neighbours: who seem to me. as a whole, totally incapable of 



CONTINUED PERSECUTION. 181 

understanding or appreciating what they ever are brawling 
after, any more than a wayward child who cries for the moon. 

At the great discussion in the house of lords, on the cele- 
brated attempt of Lord Sidmouth to limit the privileges of 
dissenters, the late Archbishop of Canterbury expressed him- 
self thus : — " The principles of religious toleration are in the 
bible, which is, or ought to be, in the possession of every person 
in the empire. This book comes to us with no less pretension 
than as a book from God ; and, upon the authority of its author, 
demands the attention and belief of every individual to whom 
it is presented. No persons whatsoever have a right to put a 
comment upon the Scriptures, and to impose the belief of them 
in such a sense as they may think proper — because human 
beings are liable to err, and because the word of God appeals 
to every man's reason and conscience, and makes every one 
personally responsible for his opinions and his conduct. Nor 
has any power on earth a right to interfere to prevent a man 
from communicating to others what he thinks to be a revelation 
from God ; because, when he has made up his mind to what is 
the true meaning of the bible, he is bound, by its divine autho- 
rity, to make it known to all within his sphere." The opinions 
of others I record not, having here merely quoted this to show 
the mild nature of what the church of England ought to be — and 
is — and will be — if it please the Almighty in mercy to keep from 
high places that modification of popery which has spread so 
alarmingly in modern days. 

To return to France. M. Laval, a French protestant minis- 
ter, who wrote the history of the reformation in France, in six 
vols., which he finished in 1743 ; at the close of his book, after 
reciting the declaration of Louis XV., adds: "this edict is the 
standing law by which the reformed are tried. The least trans- 
gression against any of the articles is punished with all the 
severity of the law ; and not one year passes without instances 
of some that have been hanged, or others sent to the galleys, 
or others shut up for their lives in noisome places, or others 
that are obliged to pay large fines for the least offence. And 
even last year, we had no less than 35 men and women, some 
of whom were hanged, others sent to the galleys, and others 
shut up in the tower of Constance, only on account of religion." 
But this was not enough for the priests. In 1765, the assem- 
bly of the bishops addressed a remonstrance to the king, com- 
plaining of the "encroachments of heresy;" and calling upon 
him to " give to the laws all their force, and to religion all its 
splendour 1 " When we look at the horrible atrocities of the 
French revolution— so far as the dispensations of a righteous 
God are concerned, can we avoid reflecting ; " Verily, there is a 
God that judgeth !" 

M 



182 HOPES OF RE-CONVEHTJNG ENGLAND. 

Contrasting with the ill -understood principles of liberty among 
our neighbours (I cannot endure even the word toleration, for 
what one man can have a right to pretend to permit an- 
other man's religion !) the many blessings we Britons enjoy, re- 
minds me of one which I think it has been too much the fa- 
shion to under-value. I mean the mildness of the reigning 
family. They seem to have had, at any rate, sense enough to 
steer clear of religious exasperations, and wisdom enough to 
discourage heats and divisions about ecclesiastical matters. 
Endowed with no great share of understanding, the wits laughed 
at George II. for his plainness and judgment, when a deputation 
from a public company waited on him, to inform him that a ser- 
vice of plate having been voted him, they had come to know his 
pleasure as to the pattern. He replied, " I care not von tamn 
about de pattern, make it massy and coot." Let us remember also 
to his praise that, on being urged to vigorous measures against 
dissenters, he just saw, if he could see no more, the folly and in- 
justice thereof, and vehemently exclaimed : " Dere shall be no 
parsecution in my reign !" But, whether we regard the foresight 
and justice of such monarchs as Henry IV.; the profligacy and 
over-bearing of Louis XIV.; or the mildness of our own mo- 
narchs, since we have got rid of the accursed Stuart race ; how 
forcibly are we reminded of the truth of Scripture in witness- 
ing its various fulfilment, and led to see the numerous ways 
in which of such characters it is proved that " their works do 
follow them!" 

Through Cardinal Howard, Burnet at Rome saw all the let- 
ters to the papal court from England, relative to a restoration of 
popery here. To help forward this object Louis had also reck- 
oned on revoking the edict of Nantes, and the incidental terrors 
and persecution of protestantism in his dominions. Our court 
calculated on assured success, and that every thing would be 
carried with a high hand during the next session of parliament. 
The more sober Italians regretted the attempt, thinking it would 
either be defeated, and then of course popery fall to a discount; 
or, if carried, it could only be done by England being trampled on 
by France. This would in fact leave Louis master of the world: 
so that the cardinals were against the Jehu-like course of James, 
and wrote, in all their letters to England, recommending slow, 
calm, and moderate, courses. One of the great difficulties they 
experienced at Rome, in the re-conversion of England, was a 
want of able English priests who could preach to the people, and 
otherwise be useful instruments in this great work. Cardinal 
Howard (who seems to have been a kind and friendly man, and, 
though a priest, an honest man) in his intimacy with Burnet, then 
at Rome, lamented that the English, who came over to Rome 
to be instructed, selons les regies, came so young that they lost 



POPE INNOCENT XI. 183 

the peculiar English accent. Imperceptibly imbibing the Ita- 
lian, when they preached on their return in their native land, 
they passed for foreigners — which always seems to have created 
a prejudice (in this case a very wholesome one) in the minds of 
the common people. 

The " glory" of Louis increased — we see how during peace 
he went on aggrandising his territory. Twice had he received the 
submission of Algiers; and Tunis and Tripoli humbled themselves 
before him. The king was now flattered additionally by an em- 
bassy from Siam, as Voltaire remarks, a people who till then 
knew not that such a country as France existed. A Greek, named 
Phalk Constance, had become grand vizier of Siam. Being an 
enterprising young fellow, and anxious to become king, appre- 
hending that both England and Holland, who had factories on 
the coast of Coromandel, would thwart his ambition, Constance 
thought his views might be forwarded by a little well-timed flat- 
tery of Louis. So he sent over a splendid embassy to the French 
monarch, with compliments and presents from the King of Siam, 
imploring the honour and advantage of a treaty with him, as he 
moreover contemplated adopting the Christian religion. Louis 
was thus doubly flattered ;.and he sent two ambassadors and six 
Jesuits to the King of Siam; to these he afterwards added some 
officers and 800 soldiers. But the eclat of the Siamese embassy 
was the only fruit of it ; for the ambition of Constance being 
detected, he fell a victim to it ; and of the French who at that 
time remained, some were massacred, and others fled. The 
widow of Constance, who had been on the point of attaining 
regal honours, like our Lambert Simnel in the reign of our 
Henry, was condemned to serve in the royal kitchen, for which 
employment, says Voltaire, she was born. 

" Born in a garret, in a kitchen bred." 
The reigning pope, Innocent XL, was a man of virtue, and 
one who filled that office honourably and creditably. He had seen 
great changes in his career ; having been sent to the wars when 
young by his father, a banker in the Milanese. After making two 
campaigns, he quitted the army for the church militant; and was 
at length raised to the purple by Innocent X.; at whose death, in 
1676, he was chosen to fill the papal chair. He reformed several 
abuses in the ecclesiastical states, and, disgusted with the con- 
duct of Louis XIV., he succoured the empire of Poland against 
the Turks, with money ; and the Venetians with his galleys. He 
opposed with great firmness the appointments of Louis XIV. to 
bishoprics (so that at his death, in 1689, there were no less 
than 30 vacant in France). A very ancient abuse existed in that 
part of Rome where the ambassadors resided, where the rights 
of freedom, enjoyed by their masters, were claimed by their 
followers ; and by degrees these quarters, as they were called, 

m 2 



184 POWER AND ASSURANCE OF LOUIS. 

became so extended that half the city constituted practically an 
asylum for all sorts of criminals. And farther, the privilege of 
the ambassadors receiving articles of consumption free of duty 
became abused so as seriously to affect the Roman revenue. 

The pope, therefore, prevailed on the emperor, and the kings 
of Spain, England and Poland to concur in renouncing these 
odious claims ; and proposed to the King of France also to agree. 
He replied, " that having never made the conduct of others an 
example to himself, on the contrary, he would make himself 
an example to others." He then sent the Marquis de Lavardin 
as his ambassador to Rome, notwithstanding the pope's pro- 
hibition, escorted by 400 marine guards, 400 volunteer officers, 
and 200 servants, all armed. Taking possession of his palace, 
his quarters, and the church of St. Louis, he posted centinels, 
who did regular duty. In venting his indignation, Innocent 
could only have recourse to excommunication, by this time re- 
garded with contempt, Voltaire says, even in Rome. However, 
one of its polluting effects wrought curiously, for the Cardinal 
d'Etree, who was frequently obliged to see Lavardin, could not be 
allowed afterwards to see the pope without first receiving abso- 
lution; which imaginary power Innocent was determined to 
preserve. In like manner, Louis endeavoured to direct the choice 
of an Elector of Cologne ; his sole design being to oppose the em- 
peror, by raising Furstemberg, who is mentioned (at p. 141) as 
having been seized by Leopold, for selling himself to the service 
of France. The chapter of Cologne had the right of nomina- 
ting its bishop, who thus became elector. Ferdinand, who filled 
the see, had been dangerously ill ; and Louis, by intrigues, pro- 
cured the election of Furstemberg as co-adjutor. Ferdinand 
died, and the same influence elected Furstemberg a second 
time. The emperor had to confirm the election, and the pope 
then to confer the bishopric. Both were satisfied that to seat 
Furstemberg would, in reality, be to let Louis possess the 
power ; and they therefore agreed to bestow the principality on 
the young Prince of Bavaria, brother of the deceased elector. 
Louis immediately deprived the pope of Avignon, and prepared 
for war against the emperor. These matters, which do not 
appear very important, are mentioned to show the height of as- 
surance to which Louis XIV. had attained ; and to explain how, 
in humbling all princes around him, he undesignedly caused 
them all to unite, in a fearful determination to bring down his 
own insufferable pride. 

I have mentioned (at p. 83) the threatening persecution of 
the Vaudois, which Cromwell promptly stopped. These un- 
fortunate sufferers seem ever to have been doomed to the most 
barbarous and inhuman of oppressions ; and the rage of the 
priests of Rome, Mosheim informs us, seemed to portend no- 



CLASSES OF THE REFORMED. 185 

thing less than the total destruction and entire extinction of 
that unhappy nation. The most horrid scenes of violence and 
bloodshed were now exhibited on this theatre of papal tyranny ; 
and the small number that survived, under Providence, were 
indebted for their existence and support, precarious and uncer- 
tain as it was, to the English and Dutch governments, who 
never ceased to solicit the Duke of Savoy in their behalf. The 
church of the Palatinate, which had been long at the head of the 
reformed churches in Germany, declined rapidly from the year 
1685, when (as I stated p. 166) a Roman Catholic prince was 
raised to that electorate ; and, from taking the lead among the 
protestant assemblies in that country, it became the least con- 
siderable. 

Of the reformed faith in France, who ranked as the most 
eminent divines, may be mentioned as giving honour to the de- 
gree of D.D. about this period, Cameron, Chamier, Du Moulin, 
Mestreyat, Blondel, Drelincourt, Daille, Amyraut, the two Cap- 
pels, De la Place, Gamstole, Croy, Morus, Le Blanc, Pajon, 
Bochart, Claude, Alix, Jurien, Basnage, Abbadie, Beausobre, 
Lenfant, Martin, Des Vignoles, &c. In a work like this, neces- 
sarily compressed, it would be impracticable to enter into the 
disputes between the Jesuits and the Jansenists in the Roman 
Catholic church, or those which divided the reformed professors. 
The one side adhered to the institutes of Calvinism, an almost 
universal attachment, that gave way to the wide-spread influence 
of the criticisms of Grotius and Cocceius. With any subordinate 
differences of opinion as to faith or doctrine, this division still 
leaves the two classes of belief to this day understood by Cal- 
vinism and Arminianism. The difficulties of the former, in a 
"path that the vulture's eye hath not seen," being smoothed to the 
general perception by following " the free, easy, and unaffected 
method of the Arminian divines, in illustrating the truths and 
enforcing the duties of Christianity." Now arose those defini- 
tions of faith which so much puzzled the doctors on both sides. 
And if the ancient followers of Calvin had ventured to interpret 
the Scriptures as exhibiting the Most High, in order to exercise 
and display his awful justice and his free mercy, decreeing from 
all eternity the transgression of Adam, this credence obtained 
for them the title of swprtflapsarians. On the other hand, to 
believe that God had only permitted the fall, without prede- 
termining that awful transgression, was sure to carry the ma- 
jority of reasoners along with it, as " a path which seemeth 
right to a man." This powerful division, soon outnumbering the 
other, and ever since maintaining its vast numerical majority, 
was denominated sw&lapsarians. 

It might have been hoped during the distresses of the Pala- 
tinate, and the sufferings of the reformed in France, and in the 



186 CHARACTER OF THE DISSENTERS. 

vallies of Piedmont, that the unhappy differences between 
Lutherans and Calvinists, Arminians and Anti-arminians, with 
other disputes which inflamed Geneva and Switzerland, would 
at least have been suspended while they had a common enemy 
to deal with, against whom, even if cemented by union, they 
could hardly stand. It is melancholy to relate that these acer- 
bities were followed with more eagerness and sharpness than 
ever ; although it is allowed that a general charity was discover- 
able towards the French refugees. They were, among all the 
reformed, in all places, well received, kindly treated, and bounti- 
fully supplied. 

I do not like to say one word in disparagement of these 
unhappy sufferers ; but it must be confessed that, whether at- 
tributable to the lightness of the French character, which so 
little comports with the term we expressively apply to the re- 
ligious in England — ''serious" people; or to the differences 
on some of the radii of truth, which always strike so forcibly 
the mind of polemics ; even among the hunted protestants from 
France, the devout of neighbouring nations scarcely discovered 
enough of a spirit of piety, and devotion suitable to their con- 
dition. Though Bishop Burnet well remarks that persons who 
have willingly suffered the loss of all things, having forsaken 
country, houses, estates, and friends, many of them their nearest 
relations, rather than sin against their consciences, must be 
believed to possess a deeper principle than can well be observed 
by others. This respectable and honest episcopalian, who could 
not sympathize in outward matters with these " excellent of the 
earth," confesses he stood amazed at the labours and learning 
of the ministers among the reformed. We are to remember he 
was at Geneva and other of the frontiers of France, during these 
dreadful persecutions. They understood the Scriptures well in 
the original tongues: thoroughly conversant with all the points of 
controversy they were, because they thoroughly understood the 
whole body of divinity. Their sermons, however, were too long 
for Burnet, and they were too "jealous" of the points in which 
" they put their orthodoxy." And the result of the personal ob- 
servations of this good, though zealous, churchman must serve 
me as the last clause of this section : "I have, upon all the 
observations that I have made, often considered the inward state 
of the reformation, and the decay of the vitals of Christianity in 
it, as that which gives more melancholy impressions than all 
the outward dangers that surround it." 



MADAME LA VALLIERE. 187 



SECTION IV. 



Domestic occurrences of Louis' court — Retirement of La Valliere— Gene- 
ral profligacy — Madame de Montespan — Lauzun — His imprisonment at 
Pignerol — The Duke d'Antin — Death of Anne of Austria — Poisoning — 
Implication of two of Mazarin's nieces — Murder of Maria-Louisa, 
Queen of Spain, by the mother of Prince Eugene — Disgraceful position 
of the Duke of Luxembourg — Pomponne — Treason of the Chevalier 
de Rohan — The great Colbert — Madame de Fontange — Madame de 
Maintenon — Death of the Queen — Marriage of some of Louis' illegiti- 
mate children — The man in the iron mask — English affairs — Traitorous 
schemes of the high church — Injudicious conduct of James II. — 
Unexpected pregnancy of the Queen of England — Doubts as to her 
delivery — Manifesto of Louis against the Emperor — Expedition to 
bring over William III. — Dying agonies of the Scotch Kirk — The 
Protestant wind — Dismay of the court party in England — Arrival of 
William III. — Several lords join him — A parliament called — Invitation 
to William and Mary jointly to occupy the vacant throne — The true era 
of English liberty — Degradation of James II. — Expedition of France 
to Ireland — Schomberg, and Ginkle — Battle of the Royne — Flight of 
James — Marlborough finally reduces Ireland — Attempts to assassinate 
William III. — Conduct of Louis to James II. — Sketch of the misfor- 
tunes of the wretched Stuarts — Biography of the Hydes. 

The nature of the events recorded in my last section precluded 
their being broken in upon by a recital of the domestic occur- 
rences connected with Louis. I am compelled, therefore, to re- 
trace my steps, and recall my reader's attention to the mention of 
Mde. La Valliere (at p. 98). Fallen as she was, that lady never 
sunk into the hardened profligate, but was occasionally, even 
frequently, visited by periods of remorse. But she never could 
induce Louis to abandon the fatal course he had drawn her into ; 
although there is abundant evidence that La Valliere made many 
fruitless efforts to detach herself from her disgraceful position. 
On one occasion she fled from his protection to the convent of 
Chaillot; but, alas ! her flight was in vain. Amidst the conflict- 
ing accounts of the motives of this renewed attempt at closing 
this scandalous connexion, let us hear Mr. James, who certainly 
has gone into the whole history of this period with great elabo- 
ration. In preference to the commonly received opinion, that it 
was under the influence of deep repentance, he says, Made- 
moiselle de Montalais, an artful girl, communicated to La Val- 
liere the secret of her mistress's private interviews with the Count 



188 MADAME DE MONTESPAN. 

de Guiche, on her solemn promise not to reveal the matter to 
the king. She was one of the maids of honour to Henrietta, 
who had married the brother of the king. 

The king had exacted from La Valliere that there should be no 
secrets between them ; and fancying, from a certain embarrass- 
ment, that she knew something which it burdened her not to 
disclose, an angry scene took place. As it led the royal lover 
to keep away longer than usual, La Valliere quitted the Louvre, 
and proceeded to the before-mentioned convent. On hearing 
of her sudden departure, Louis sacrificed his anger to his love ; 
and, after having discovered with great difficulty her retreat, set 
off with only three attendants to Chaillot. Finding her in the 
outer parlour of the convent, stretched on the ground and bathed 
in tears, he, partly by force, and partly by entreaties, compelled 
her to quit the asylum she had chosen, and to return to the 
degradation of concubinage. In 1667, Louis erected the lord- 
ship of Vaujour into a duchy in favour of this beautiful lady; 
creating her a duchess, with the remainder to his natural 
daughter by her. This daughter, Maria-Anne, called Made- 
moiselle de Blois, married Lewis-Armand, Prince of Conti ; she 
lived till 1739. La Valliere also had borne him a son, before 
the birth of her daughter, Louis of Bourbon, Count de Ver- 
mandois. These two children were brought up publicly under 
the superintendence of the famous Colbert, who greatly admired 
their mother. This favourite presented to the world the spec- 
tacle of one who thought virtuously, and who could never de- 
fend her conduct — appearing, for the sake of pleasing her royal 
lover, to feel gratification in the notoriety of her improper con- 
nexion with the king. 

A life of sin must be expected to end in sorrow. She per- 
ceived about 1667, a powerful rival had deprived her of that 
place in Louis' affections she had so long maintained. Madame 
de Montespan had filled, about her own person, much the same 
position which she herself had held under the unfortunate Hen- 
rietta. This new beauty had now captivated that selfish breast 
which had debased so many lovely young women, who but for 
him might have lived in honour, and died in peace. Voltaire 
however informs us that it was not till the year 1669 " she per- 
ceived that Madame de Montespan had gained the ascendant. 
La Valliere opposed her with her usual softness, and supported 
along time, almost without complaint, the mortification of seeing 
her rival's triumph. Thinking herself happy in her misfortune, 
as she was still treated with respect by the king, whom she con- 
tinued to love, and still enjoyed his presence, though she was no 
longer beloved by him." However, having had frequent oppor- 
tunities, in his visits to La Valliere, of seeing this new beauty, 
it was well understood by the whole court that she had fallen in 



REPINED PRIDE OF LOUIS. 189 

with the king's proposals. The unhappy La Valliere reproached 
the heartless man — who now treated her with harshness. She 
again fled to St. Marie de Chaillot. Spite of his tenfold infi- 
delity, St. Simon informs us that he sent Lauzun, the captain 
of his guard, to bring her from the convent, even by force, while 
Colbert went to try milder means. 

But, on her return, misery was her portion. She determined 
on retiring in a more formal way ; as the passion of the king 
for Madame de Montespan betrayed itself with increased pub- 
licity. He gradually became prepared to let La Valliere depart, 
as she had decided, on mature reflection, to take the irrevocable 
vow. The pride of Louis even here showed itself in almost as 
disgusting a light as it is pictured by the representation of the 
fulsome artist, that painted the Virgin Mary meeting a French 
king, who, taking off his hat to the Madonna, she replies, " Cou- 
vrez vous, mon cousin!" Knowing the resolution of the un- 
happy lady, he professed he would no longer oppose her wishes, 
but begged her to choose an order where he could appoint her 
abbess, to distinguish the woman he had loved! She wisely de- 
clined the responsibility, humbly observing that, not having 
been able to conduct her own life well, she was little qualified 
to direct the course of others. 

Incongruous as is the position, she is said to have done all 
she could in the circumstances, which, outraging all morals, 
must have destroyed the peace of the virtuous queen, to spare 
the feelings of that royal lady. The now repentant mistress of 
her royal husband waited on the queen, and threw herself at 
her feet, imploring her forgiveness with bitter tears. In the pre- 
sence of the queen, and of the whole court, she took the veil, 
in a convent of the severest order of Carmelites, June, 1675, 
having entered June, 1674. Here, according to the best lights 
she had (although we protestants are used to designate these 
penitential exercises as superstitious), by a continued series of 
mortification, did sister Louise de la Misericorde — the name by 
which she entered — endeavour to expiate her sins, during the 
long course of 35 years. In the practice of every becoming 
virtue, she continued here till 1710, when she died, aged 65 
years. On being told of the death of her son, in 1683, she 
wept — but, remembering her disgrace, well observed that she 
had more reason to weep for his birth ! Confessedly dangerous 
as it is to throw a halo of interest around any who live in open 
defiance of the laws of God and man, one cannot help feeling 
deep pity in the fate of this lovely and unfortunate lady. Early 
trepanned by a flagitious monarch from the path of virtue, to- 
wards it she appears to have had a constant longing to return, 
let us indulge the charitable hope that she found pardon and 
peace during her retirement. In opposition to uncalled-for 

m 5 



190 THE MORTIMAR FAMILY. 

mortification and uncommanded penance — every time the ser- 
vices of the church of England open, we are thankful to be taught 
" the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit — that a contrite heart 
he will not despise ; that to him belong mercies and forgive- 
nesses, though we have rebelled against him." We therefore 
know nothing of horse-hair shirts, fastings, nor flagellations, 
greatly as they may be sighed after by such ultra churchmen as 
seem to repudiate the spirituality of those services, the letter of 
which they would fain exalt so high. If matters should progress 
thus far at Oxford, let us have no Sancho-Panza trifling. If the 
heart of the leaders should fail them, and they should require 
an assistant, I would recommend one who well knows how to 
lay on the lash — the great gun of St. Paul's, the Rev. Sidney 
Smith. The famed restorers of " ancient paths " may thus en- 
joy the satisfaction of sealing their testimony with their blood. 
On which auspicious occasion, " may I be there to see ! " 

It is recorded that the profligacy of the court of Louis XIV. 
was so great that he even encouraged all his courtiers to engage 
in amorous intrigues, as it were in some sort to justify his own. 
While the contests between La Valliere and De Montespan 
were yet going on, Louvois was keeping several mistresses ; and 
one of them, Madame du Frenoi, the wife of one of his clerks, 
was made private lady of the bedchamber, and mistress of the 
ceremonies on extraordinary occasions. The Duke of St. Simon 
informs us that, as soon as Madame de Montespan perceived 
the rising affection of the king, she informed her husband of 
the fact, and implored him to retire from the court. This is 
irreconcilable with the majority of accounts, and the probabi- 
lities, from her subsequently developed character. If Colbert 
may be called the friend of La Valliere, Louvois was the par- 
tisan of De Montespan. It was found that the influence of 
Colbert diminished, while the authority of Louvois increased, 
with the power the new mistress exerted over the king. The 
quiet simplicity of the late favourite gave place to the preva- 
lence of pomp, splendour, and deep play, among the courtiers. 
Athenais de Mortimar was born in 1641; she was of a witty 
family, nor was her own share inferior to that of her two beau- 
tiful sisters, the Marchioness of Thiange, and the abbess of 
Fontevraud. The Duke de Vivonne, their brother, was a marshal 
of France, greatly distinguished for his reading and taste ; he it 
was whom the king one day asked what signified reading ? To 
this Vivonne replied, " Reading is to the mind what your par- 
tridges are to my cheeks;" — the duke's face being remarkably 
plump and fresh-coloured. 

Voltaire describes all four as being universally agreeable, for 
a singular turn of conversation, a certain mixture of pleasantry, 
ease, and elegance, which was called at the time the spirit of the 



SPLENDOUR OF DE MONTESPAN. 191 

Mortimars. They all wrote with remarkable liveliness and par- 
ticular grace. Hence it appears how ridiculous the story is 
that Madame de Montespan was obliged to employ Madame 
Scarron to write her letters to the king, which occupation gave 
the opportunity for her ultimately successful rivalship with De 
Montespan. She had married, at the age of 22, Louis de Gon- 
drin, Marquis de Montespan, immediately on which she had 
been appointed dame du palais to the queen. In this situation 
she showed great friendship for La Valliere, and this counte- 
nance was then the more esteemed as, though the queen was 
powerless, Anne of Austria, marked with her displeasure the 
course her son was pursuing. De Montespan's friends at first 
gave it out that she merely endeavoured a conquest over the 
mind of Louis. Certainly those efforts were not unsuccessful ; 
her wit and sarcasm enlivened every thing, and the attracted 
king, while charmed with her sallies, soon became enchanted 
with her beauty. On his first addresses, she is said to have 
repeated her entreaties to her husband to remove from the 
danger she would be unable to conquer. Either from confi- 
dence in her virtue, or from a baser expectation, he shut his 
eyes to the evidently increasing passion of the king. When it 
became obvious to himself, he publicly accused his wife of 
adultery, and treated her with great severity. This conduct Louis 
pretended was the reason of his causing the injured Marquis to 
be imprisoned. Afterwards he was banished from the kingdom, 
and the helplessness of his disgrace, with the fear of despotic 
power, soon reconciled him to accept atonement in the shape 
of 100,000 crowns, that silenced his own virtue and completed 
the purchase of his wife. 

At first the guilt of this fresh intrigue was kept as private as 
possible ; nor is it certain it was public until she had borne him 
more than one child. Louis was in the habit of riding about 
with his wife and two mistresses in the same coach ; and we 
find that the ignorant peasantry imagined a new law had been 
passed for the gratification of the monarch. In crowds they 
used to proceed to the well-known course of the royal caval- 
cade, saying they were going to see the three queens ! Madame 
de Montespan now assumed the airs of royalty ; she procured 
the ministers of state to consult her on important occasions, 
and, as some accounts state, wormed out of the royal adulterer 
the most important secrets. This, however, is denied by Vol- 
taire, who credits the king with knowing how properly to dis- 
tinguish between his pleasures and the affairs of state. To 
such pomp did this detestable harlot attain that she kept the 
most sumptuous table, and none but princes of the blood were 
permitted to use an arm chair in her presence. Hitherto the 
king had travelled on horseback in all his military journeys — 



192 THE COUNT DE LAUZUN. 

he now adopted a coach; and the glory of the new royal 
courtezan and her infamous lover were wonderfully displayed in 
the journey the king made to Flanders in 1670. It consisted 
of little else than a continued series of entertainments. The 
queen, the Duchess of Orleans, and the Marchioness de Montes- 
pan, figured in the splendid equipage ; but to his new mistress 
he assigned the honour of a guard of four horse-soldiers on each 
side of her carriage. After her came the king's eldest legitimate 
son, the dauphin, with his court ; and then Mademoiselle, with 
hers. This was before the fatal adventure of her marriage — 
her lover, the Count de Lauzun, then being a favourite with the 
king at the head of his company of guards. In short, all con- 
ceivable honours were paid to this proud woman, who now was 
found a ruler sufficient to tame even the grand monarque. 

One of the greatest favourites of the king had been the 
count, afterwards the Duke of Lauzun ; at one time rival to him 
in his rambling amours, at another his confidant in his infamous 
intrigues. Voltaire remarks quite naively, thereby incidentally 
exhibiting a sad picture of French morals, that it is a singular 
instance of the power of custom and prejudice, that, at a time 
when all the married women were allowed to have lovers, the 
grand-daughter of Henry IV. (Mademoiselle) was not even al- 
lowed a husband. That princess had refused several royal 
matches, and, as we have seen in an early part of this work, 
once entertained hopes of marrying Louis XIV. At the mature 
age of 43, she cast her eyes on Pequilin de Caumont, Count de 
Lauzun, captain of one of the two companies of gentlemen 
pensioners, which being no longer kept up, the king had crea- 
ted, for him, the post of colonel-general of dragoons. The 
Roman emperors, continues Voltaire, gave their daughters to 
senators, and there are hundreds of examples of princesses who 
have married gentlemen. Difficulties, however, arose, and led 
to a daring and shameful act on the part of Lauzun. That he 
might be sure of the part which the new royal mistress was 
playing, as regarded the realization of his own ambition, Lauzun 
hid himself under her bed to over- (or under) hear the conversa- 
tion which might pass between the king and her! The accounts 
are too indelicate to be made public; suffice it to say, being 
afterwards discovered, he dearly paid for his temerity. 

A day had been fixed for his marriage, with the consent of 
Louis. The father of Mademoiselle, at the age of 52, had died, 
in 1660 ; and from his position as lieutenant-general, and son of 
Henry IV., consequently brother to Louis XIII. , he had amass- 
ed immense wealth. It descended to his daughter; this she 
gave to the Count de Lauzun, together with four duchies, the 
sovereignty of Dombes, the county d'Eu, and the palace of Or- 
leans, called the Luxembourg. She retained nothing, but re- 



AND MADEMOISELLE. 193 

signed herself to the pleasure of presenting to the man she 
loved the whole of a fortune larger than ever any king had given 
to a subject. The articles were drawn up, and Lauzun, for a 
single day, was Duke of Montpensier. Every thing was ready, 
and nothing remained but to sign — when the king, who had 
written to foreign courts to declare the marriage, assailed by 
princes, ministers, and the enemies of a man whose happiness 
they regarded as too great, privately urged on by Madame de 
Montespan, now forbad the completion of the marriage. Weep- 
ing for his pretended grief at the disappointment occasioned 
to his cousin, the king gratified his private pique against this 
nobleman. On one occasion, Louis being inclined to introduce 
a fresh inmate into his harem, in the person of the Princess de 
Monaco, sister of the Count de Guiche, Lauzun, who was her 
cousin and really respected her, remonstrated with the king. 
The uncourtly strain, joined to free and witty remarks, which had 
often provoked the selfish and proud voluptuary, now irritated 
Louis so far that he caused Lauzun to be arrested and thrown 
into the Bastille. He was speedily released by uncommon de- 
monstrations of grief at losing the light of the royal countenance; 
and afterwards by more care, and fulsome adulation, he rose 
into great favour. As one post of honour and profit after an- 
other became vacant, they were heaped upon him, and Lauzun 
even ventured with some degree of success to thwart and curb 
the insolence of Louvois, the powerful minister. 

Lauzun's disappointment was only another instance of the 
wisdom of many old saws — "many a slip between the cup and 
the lip ;" " he that will not when he may," &c. In the first in- 
stance, Louis gave his consent ; and it was only by the delay 
Lauzun himself created, to afford time for an unheard of dis- 
play of splendour at his nuptials, in all which the love-stricken 
maiden freely indulged him, that Louvois and his enemies con- 
cocted a scheme to blight his hopes. To the baseness of Louis' 
conduct it only remains to mention the ridicule created through- 
out Europe, to give an idea of the odium with which the king 
was hereby covered. Lauzun now ventured privately to marry 
Mademoiselle. It may be that, taken alone, Louis would not 
for this have punished him so severely. But as his infatuation 
had led him to insult Madame de Montespan ; and even in the 
presence of Louis to treat her with the greatest contumely — 
once approaching her so closely before all the court, and address- 
ing in an under tone words so gross and offensive to her that 
her virtuous indignation caused the splendid courtezan to faint 
in public: his doom was sealed. He was arrested in 1671, and 
sent to Pignerol, where he is mentioned (at p. 103) as the com- 
panion of Fouquet. The shameful vindictiveness of the haughty 
monarch detained this vain man for 10 long years, a punish- 



194 THE PRINCE DE MARSILLAC. 

ment infamously disproportioned to any improprieties of which 
he might have been guilty. It is related that Fouquet, who only 
about that time had the rigour of his confinement relaxed, and 
was then permitted to converse with Lauzun, having known him 
as a country gentleman of small consequence, when he heard 
from Lauzun's own lips the truth of his remarkable story, set 
him down as a madman. 

Mademoiselle de Montpensier's efforts to release her hus- 
band were fruitless, and it is probable he would have ended his 
days in the castle of Pignerol, but that the cupidity of both the 
king and the mistress struck out the bright thought of tantali- 
zing the longing wife with the prospect of the liberation of her 
spouse, if she would assign a large portion of her vast estates 
to the Duke of Maine, the eldest surviving offspring of their 
adulterous connexion. A conference took place between the 
unfortunate prisoner and De Montespan at Bourbon, whither 
he was taken for the purpose. He was induced to yield, on 
the promise of his liberation, if he would bestow on that bastard 
the sovereignty of Dombes, and the earldom of D'Eu. These 
donations were made, upon the clear understanding that Mon- 
sieur de Lauzun would be henceforth the acknowledged husband 
of the long-tried lady, Mademoiselle. Louis, who spite of Vol- 
taire's eulogies, was capable of any baseness, only permitted her 
to give this secret husband the manors of St. Fargeau and 
Thiers, with other revenues, which, though considerable, were 
not sufficient for Lauzun. 

This poor lady was reduced to the mortification of being a 
wife in secret of a man by whom she was ill-treated in public. 
Rendered equally unhappy at home or abroad, the violent pas- 
sions which had characterized her stormy life terminated in 
death in 1693. The count went over to England in 1688, and 
conducted the queen of James II. into France, with her son, 
then an infant. He was created a duke, and his adventurous 
course found him employment at the battle of the Boyne in 
Ireland, where he cut but a poor figure, and returned more no- 
ticed for the variety of his adventures than for any personal 
regard. Voltaire ends his singular history by saying he died in 
extreme old age, and quite forgotten ; as generally happens to all 
those who have experienced great changes of fortune, without 
having performed any great actions themselves. 

The fall of this vain flatterer brought into greater notice 
fresh characters at court. Among these the Prince de Marsillac, 
son of the well known Duke de Rochefoucault, was one who, 
by polite flattery and attention, wormed himself into the good 
graces of the king. On his offering to Marsillac the govern- 
ment of Berri, which had been one of Lauzun's appointments, 
the deceitful prince suggested that, having been inimical to the 



THE DUKE DENTIN. 195 

imprisoned count, it would hardly be decent in him to fill the 
vacant post, which he pretended such disinclination to, that 
Louis was compelled to lay his express commands upon one 
whose reluctance to preferment could only be paralleled by that 
of English bishops ! 

The Marchioness de Montespan, before her cohabitation 
with Louis, had borne a son to her husband, who afterwards be- 
came Duke d' An tin. He was sprightly, gifted, and unprincipled; 
but was more distinguished by doing agreeable things than by 
saying them. He had a peculiar grace and a ready courtliness, 
which, added to his unusually handsome person, developing the 
beauty of his mother, as well as the manly bearing of his 
father, characterised him even beyond the period of personal at- 
traction. These captivations, according to the Duke St. Simon, 
distinguished him to the latest period of his life. In short, he 
was another admirable Crichton — in external recommendations; 
with the drawbacks of sensuality, love of play, and, what most 
shocks men of his association, contemptible cowardice. Still 
his military talents were universally allowed, and could personal 
prowess have been added, he would have made an excellent 
general. He could cajole and flatter, from the throne to the 
stable-yard. 

He afterwards descended to ingratiate himself with Madame 
de Maintenon by the most servile copying of her habits, and the 
most ridiculous adaptation of himself to her wishes; even at 
incredible cost. On occasion of a royal visit to his country- 
house at Petit Bourg, the king, having expressed his gratifica- 
tion with all he beheld, merely noticed a drawback in a grove of 
trees, that from their great age had become so magnificently 
large as to obstruct his view. The next morning, when Louis 
stood at the same spot, he noticed that the trees were gone. The 
obsequious duke had caused them to be levelled and carried 
away during the night ; the ground was smoothed — in short not 
a trace of the mighty and hideous devastation remained. It is 
added that, the next day, Louis complained of a large wood, 
which also obstructed another view; and this servile procured 
1,200 men, who at once levelled it to the ground. The Duchess 
of Burgundy, who was present, exclaimed, " If the king wished 
our heads thus to disappear, the duke, I fear, would not hesitate 
to obey his sovereign." 

It is said Madame de Maintenon saw through his flattery; 
but that the king, gratified with his servility, within a month, 
appointed him governor of the Orleanois. Voltaire differed 
with Mde.de Maintenon; he made a "fine distinction," some- 
thing like a case which occurred while Lord Brougham was chan- 
cellor, who having asked if a person was not five and thirty years 
old? Mr. Knight replied, "No, my lord, he is thirty-five;" 



196 DEATH OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA. 

which the chancellor said was o.flne distinction. I say, Voltaire 
observes that this behaviour of d'Antin showed the ingenious 
courtier, rather than the flatterer. The reason for dwelling so 
much on the characters of such men is that they gave a tone to 
the court, and to the people in general. If such master minds 
as Turenne, Conde, and Luxembourg, had established a military 
character; while Louvois, Colbert, and others, had raised France 
both in external importance and internal prosperity ; such ephe- 
merals as Marsillac, Lauzun and d'Antin, degraded the relations 
between prince and people ; and it soon became a vain search 
for that public spirit which could throw up barricades, shout for 
liberty, or fire the Hotel de Ville. It is painful to add that the 
saying " like prince like people" was singularly appropriate. In 
setting at nought that, without which society would become lax 
and infamous ; and all the duties, all the tendernesses, of rela- 
tionship would be lost in indiscriminate uncleanness ; the ridicu- 
lers of the conjugal tie, at once " the solder of life and cement 
of society/' broke down those barriers without which a people 
become unworthy of respect, and incapable of appreciating the 
blessings of home. 1 1n fact, strictly speaking, their very language 
is destitute of the word home; and we see that, being captivated 
by glory, they transferred to the demi-god on the throne that 
allegiance which was due to their country. The sequel showed 
that the Scriptures can never be broken, and that long, long 
years of degradation and fearful misery followed the disregard 
of those high counsels which declare that "he that worketh 
righteousness shall never be moved." 

Anne of Austria had passed away. After long symptoms of 
that frightful disease which seems to baffle all remedies, con- 
firmed cancer was evident. Such is maternal influence, some- 
times even over hardened sensualists, that Louis had grace 
enough to manifest respect and affection (if that sacred word 
suffer not degradation from its application to one whose feelings 
all centred in self) during her long confinement. He sat up 
whole nights with his sick and dying mother— paid her every 
attention in her last hours — listened to her counsels to abandon 
his vicious courses — and set at nought all her reproof! She 
died Jan. 1666; and we see his accelerated pace thenceforward 
in the downward road. Many a thorn had he planted in her 
dying pillow ; and we shall witness the remorse which distract- 
ed his breast when his own last hour approached. 

The crime of poisoning became prevalent in France, from 
about 1670 to 1680, and claimed the serious attention of go- 
vernment. For three or four years past, rumours of such hor- 
rible deaths were in circulation, and at length were believed. 
The fate of Henrietta (see p. 122) had awakened suspicions, and 
it became a kind of fashion to attribute any sudden demise to 



MADAME DE BRINVILLIERS. 197 

that subtle agency. This " revenge of cowards," as Voltaire 
well expresses it, infected France only when the manners of the 
people where softened by pleasures and " glory." So glory 
appears to have had some evils in its train, even according to 
his philosophy. Two Italians, one of whom was named Exili. 
had long wrought with a German, named Glaser, in search of 
the philosopher's stone — an iynis fatuus, which for ages seems 
to have captivated the minds of many clever persons. It is 
needless to say that, instead of enriching themselves by the dis- 
covery, they lost the little they previously had, and then were 
tempted by guilt to replenish their empty exchequer. The grand 
penitentiary of France had learned, in receiving certain confes- 
sion, that some persons had died by poison. (Does this function 
correspond with the recently revived office of " confessor to the 
royal household " in England ?) Feeling it his duty to inform 
the government, these two Italians were sent to the Bastille, 
where one of them died. But Exili continued imprisoned. 

Maria-Margaret D'Aubrai, a young beauty, having captiva- 
ted the Marquis de Brinvilliers, had been united to him in 
marriage in 1651, and for some time maintained a character 
for prudence and chastity. A young officer of Gascony, named 
De St. Croix, was introduced to the house of the marquis. She 
is said to have hinted to her husband a fear of the conse- 
quences, but he disregarded the warning. By allowing this gay 
young man, who was attractive and very good looking, always 
to be with his wife, a criminal passion arose between them, 
which is understood not to have affected the husband, as might 
have been expected. But her own father, alive to the family 
dishonour, procured a lettre de cachet, and caused St. Croix to 
be incarcerated. He was confined in the same room with Exili, 
who taught him the fatal secrets which caused such awful con- 
sequences. At the expiry of a year the paramour was liberat- 
ed, during which time Madame de Brinvilliers, as if penitent 
for her incontinence, had devoted herself to religious duties, 
and assumed the appearance of sanctity. Soon after his release 
he visited the marchioness, and communicated the fearful ac- 
quirements he had made. Actuated by revenge, she applied 
this wicked knowledge to the destruction of her father, her two 
brothers, and her sister, sparing her husband because of his 
indifference to her lewdness. 

She was farther accused of poisoning a number of people to- 
tally inoffensive to her. Such was her gratuitous criminality that 
she carried poisoned cakes and food to the sick in the hospitals, 
and distributed like condiments to the poor in pretended cha- 
rity. This is understood to have been by way of experimenting 
on the strength of her noxious mixtures. St. Croix was one 
day concocting a subtle poison, and, becoming overpowered with 



198 THE CHAMBRE ARDENTE. 

the effluvium he dropped down dead ! As no relation appeared 
to claim his property, it was sealed up by the proper officers. 
But there was one box which the marchioness importunately 
demanded; this created some suspicion — it was carefully ex- 
amined, and found to contain instructions for these deadly 
mixtures. Making her escape from Paris, she fled to England, 
thence to Holland ; and being at length taken at Liege, a general 
confession was found upon her. Amidst all her awful crimes, 
she had been full of religion, or rather its profession, and went 
often to confess. Admitting that there was not legal evidence, 
under the French very sensible criminal code, which casts a 
favourable eye on all that tends to establish truth, as there was 
strong presumption, leading to farther proofs, she was convicted 
most satisfactorily. How unlike our own mode of proceeding, 
which, as a late eminent public writer has ably put it, is viewed 
by the lawyers — as a fox hunt is by sportsmen — more for the 
run than the death! 

This abandoned woman was beheaded, and afterw r ards burnt 
in 1676, Pennantier, receiver-general of the clergy, and her 
friend, was accused of having practised her secrets, and it cost 
him half his possessions to suppress the charge. This dreadful 
crime became systematic. Voltaire, while he well condemns 
the criminality, endeavours to pare down the national disgrace, 
and repudiates the testimony of a noted work called the " Causes 
celebres." That work depicts the frightful extent to which it 
went ; and Voltaire somewhat curiously runs it down as having 
been written by a barrister " without practice." But one can- 
not help thinking that such a practitioner therefore would have 
much greater opportunities of investigating the circumstances, 
and so be more entitled to credit. At least, as one of the 
" common readers," for whom the philosopher says the work 
was only written, so it would strike me. These poisons became 
an article of sale by several wretches ; La Voisin, La Vigoureux, 
a priest named Le Sage, and others, traded with these secrets 
of Exili, under pretended powers of divination as to things lost, 
or concealed, and predicting certain events. What a melan- 
choly thought it is, that in almost all that militates against the 
peace and welfare of society, in all ages of the world, and in 
all conditions of man, the criminality of some of the priesthood 
should be so prominent ! Spiritual appearances were got up, 
the pruriency of the minds of many were gratified by astrolo- 
gical discoveries; and, for three years after the execution of 
the infamous Brinvilliers, sudden deaths, in a number of the 
most powerful and important families, alarmed society. A stir 
being made, the above notorious characters, and forty of their 
accomplices, were arrested. 

A new tribunal, named the chambre ardente was established 



THE COUNTESS OF SOISSONS. 199 

to hold its sittings at the Arsenal, near the Bastile, in 1680. It 
consisted of eight counsellors of state, and six masters of re- 
quests, to whom was added the king's attorney-general of the 
Chatelet, to direct proceedings. This burning court seems to 
have held a very roving commission, for they fell upon cases 
of witchcraft, poisoning, coining, profanation, sacrilege, &c. 
Another priest ! Stephen Guibourg (the old villain was 71 years 
of age), made a confession, whereby we see he was the mos,* 
degraded of men. It furnished evidence which, added to that 
of many of the compounders and retailers of these poisons, 
exhibited a mass of crime, and number of participators, such as 
can be paralleled in the history of no civilised state. But it is 
also true, from the very exciting nature of the affair, that a 
kind of monomania was prevalent, and people were known to 
fabricate charges, and even to make confessions, utterly un- 
worthy of credit. One of the preparations bore the ominous 
title of " powder of succession ;" having been used to remove 
tenacious holders of property from those who were to come 
after them, and who had become impatient. 

Many of great consideration were cited before this tribunal, 
under charges connected with such hideous crimes, and among 
them were two of the nieces of Cardinal Mazarin. One had 
married the Duke of Bouillon, the other the Count of Soissons, 
who was the mother of Prince Eugene. The first appears to 
have been misled by mere curiosity to see some of the juggling 
tricks of these monsters ; much as many of our ladies of distinc- 
tion formerly followed the disguised, witty, and profligate Lord 
Rochester, as a fortune-teller, in London. Her examination, 
ending in her discharge, terminated by a not very complimen- 
tary reply to an interrogatory from one of her judges. He had 
asked this sprightly lady if she had seen the devil? She fixed 
her eyes on the judge himself, and firmly replied, " I see him 
now: he is very ugly and horrible, and is disguised as a council- 
lor of state !" It is unnecessary to say that her querist, being 
satisfied, put no more questions. More serious matters lay 
against her sister, the Countess of Soissons, who, my reader will 
remember, was suspected at the death of the unhappy Henrietta 
of England. Voltaire says, she had before retired to Brussels ; 
if so, she must soon have returned to Paris, for we learn that 
Louis, remembering his former attachment to her, on hearing 
of her name being mixed up with these dreadful crimes, sent 
her word that, if she really was guilty, he would advise her to 
withdraw. She took the hint, fled from Paris to Spain, pro- 
testing her innocence, but assigning, as a reason for getting out 
of the way, a disinclination to be cross-examined ! which, in- 
deed, Dr. Johnson says, no body likes. 

Charles II. of Spain had married Maria-Louisa, daughter of 



200 THE DUKE OF LUXEMBOURG. 

Henrietta. On the arrival of the Countess of Soissons, there 
is no doubt, Charles entertained uncomfortable reminiscences, 
and wished to prevent her associating with his queen. She 
had herself been desirous of marrying the dauphin, and Made- 
moiselle had often said to her father, " Do not bring your 
daughter so often to court, she will be too miserable in other 
places." Louis, himself, had said to her, " I make you queen 
of Spain — what more could I do for my daughter?" To which 
she is said to have replied, " Ah, Sire, 'tis in your power to do 
more for your niece ! " It was thought the Austrian ministers 
of Charles II. would get rid of her because of her love to her 
own country, that might prevent the king her husband from 
declaring for the allies against France. Voltaire says, she was 
furnished from Versailles with what was believed to be a counter- 
poison against any attempts that might be made upon her life — 
an uncertain precaution, which however did not arrive till after 
her death. Whether or not the countess con amove effected the 
destruction of the young queen, whose mother she had long 
before poisoned, as it were to fill up the measure of her ini- 
quity : — or whether, as is more probable, she was employed by 
the ministers, certain it is that she presented a cup of milk to 
that unfortunate lady, which soon produced death. 

Charles endeavoured to arrest the countess, but she had pre- 
pared every thing, and was gone. The memoirs of the Marquis 
de Dangeau inform us that Louis XIV. at supper communicated 
the intelligence to his immediate circle thus: "The Queen of 
Spain is dead — poisoned by eating of an eel pie; and the Countess 
de Pernits, and the Cameras, Zapieta and Nina, who ate of it 
after her, are also dead of the same poison." Voltaire declares 
the king never said so, and attributes the mistake of one like 
Dangeau, who was always about the palace, to its being inserted 
by one of his domestics ; because he was informed by persons 
of consideration in Spain that those three ladies survived their 
mistress for years. The vile criminal herself, shunned and de- 
tested by all, flitted about Europe, an object of scorn and 
hatred till her death, which took place at Brussels twenty-seven 
years afterwards. At the time that her son was covering him- 
self with fame, by victories over the armies of that monarch 
who had once been the lover of his mother, he was so convinced 
of her guilt that he would never more see her, and suffered her 
to live in poverty and die in want. 

The Duke of Luxembourg, so known for his great services to 
the crown of France, in the execution of his duties, had given 
offence to the infamous Louvois, whose enmity, it has been sug- 
gested by some writers, caused the great marshal to be summon- 
ed before this burning tribunal. Enough is thought to have 
transpired to implicate him in dealings with some of the infe- 



THE ARNAUD FAMILY. 201 

rior agents, whom he consulted as to the destruction of one who 
had fallen under his displeasure. But Louvois' malice was 
traceable in shaping the evidence, by tampering with the wit- 
nesses. The duke himself exhibited a great degree of unexpect- 
ed weakness, and by his equals he was blamed for submitting to 
a tribunal from which his privilege of nobility exempted him. 
The indecision manifested in the management of his trial was 
nothing compared with the folly he was proved to have shown 
relative to credence in supernatural agency. Most absurb docu- 
ments were produced, signed by him : and even assuming that 
Louvois had caused these to be interpolated, quite enough re- 
mained to leave a degree of astounding infatuation and revenge- 
ful disposition. Although, no actual criminality was brought 
conclusively home to him, he was fourteen months in confine- 
ment in the Bastille. After endless examinations, the trial ter- 
minated in his release, yet the king required him to confine 
himself in one of his country houses, and not to come within 
20 leagues of Paris. His intendant, Bonard, was declared cri- 
minal, in many ways, and condemned to the galleys. 

In the evolution of the wheel of fortune, or caprice, Louis 
subsequently buried all in oblivion, and even at length distin- 
guished the marshal with greater marks of his regard. La Voisin 
and many accomplices suffered the penalty of their crimes, being 
publicly burnt in the place de Greve. It is said that the excite- 
ment and alarm in the minds of the Parisians at these shocking 
occurrences exceeded all possible conception. It is lamentably 
true that very many were involved in this unheard-of atrocity, 
yet the mass of society did not fall into such abominable wicked- 
ness. The fearful examples, the searching investigation, and the 
just indignation of the more virtuous, produced a salutary re- 
action. If rumours still were murmured of similar crimes, it 
does not appear there was foundation for them in point of fact; 
and, though the chambre ardente continued its existence, other 
matters occupied its attention, as at length it had succeeded in 
putting an end to these frightful crimes, terrifying reports, and 
severe penal retributions. 

At p. 129, I mentioned the sound advice given by Pom- 
ponne to Louis on occasion of the terms he should grant to 
Holland. He had become a sagacious and experienced minister, 
and in 1671, was appointed to the head of the department for 
foreign affairs. Of an unpretending character and gentle spirit, 
it annoyed Louis that his elegant mind sought the repose of the 
country, and the circle which eschewed the high flying churchism 
of the Jesuits ; indeed his family were distinguished for the bet- 
ter and more enlarged views of the Jansenists. One, Anthony 
Arnaud (this was the family name, the minister for foreign 
affairs, being Simon Arnaud, Marquis of Pomponne), Abbot of 



202 rohan's conspiracy. 

Chaumes, lived with his uncle the Bishop of Angers. Anthony 
was an author, and died very old in 1698, One of the brothers 
of the marquis was Francis, abbot of Grand Champs, distin- 
guished by his literary labours, especially for having aided the 
Gazette Literaire de V Europe, the Journal Etranger, and having 
written a work on philosophy, literature and the arts. He lived 
to a great age : indeed longevity seems to have characterised the 
family; for the marquis lived to be 81, and his son and successor 
died in 1756, in his 87th year. This son, by the bye, trod in 
the steps of his family, and was distinguished both as an eccle- 
siastic and a statesman, having been an able ambassador at 
the court of Vienna, and attained afterwards to the dignity of 
chancellor. 

Tempted by the celebrity of this family to this little digres- 
sion, I must return to inform my readers that Pomponne was 
too scrupulous, and probably too indolent, for the haughty ty- 
rant. When it became his duty to send to the Court of Bavaria 
on the subject of a royal alliance, Pomponne contented himself 
with depending on the ordinary channels, and meanwhile went 
down to his country-house to superintend the planting of some 
trees. A despatch, in the interim, had reached Louvois ; who 
wanted to displace this honourable minister. He persuaded 
Louis that Pomponne was neglectful, and as he belonged to a 
section of the church which savoured of a little freedom, a pre- 
judice had been created in the king's mind, and Louis signed at 
once the dismissal of this just and able man, November 18, 1679. 
Colbert de Croissy took his place, at the suggestion of his able 
brother — to the great vexation of Louvois, who was thus com- 
pletely outwitted. 

The Chevalier de Rohan, a descendant of Henry, Duke of 
Rohan, born 1579, had fallen into debt and difficulty. This had 
driven him to desperation ; he met with another son of Belial, 
one Fraumont, and the two concocted a scheme to let the Dutch 
into Normandy. A Chevalier Preaux, and one Mde. de Villers, 
joining the two desperadoes, to form a quatrain committee, aid- 
ed by a Jesuit and a schoolmaster, had kept up a correspondence 
in the Low Countries. They had so far proceeded as to have or- 
ganised a revolt in Normandy, which arrived very near to its 
completion when discovered to the king. Rohan was arrested 
and taken to the Bastile, and Fraumont was taken at Rouen. In 
a rencontre arising partly from the guard mistaking the word of 
the captain, he was mortally wounded, and dying within a very 
short time, he said nothing to compromise his accomplices. The 
name of the Duke of Bourbon-Conde, one of the king's ille- 
gitimate children, who had married the grandson of the great 
Conde, was implicated ; but Louis forbad all farther enquiry so 
far as he was concerned. Preaux, Vanenden, Madame de Villers, 



MEMOIR OF COLBERT. 203 

and Rohan, were found guilty upon indisputable evidence, and 
all four were executed, spite of every effort to save them ; afford- 
ing the only example of high treason throughout this long reign ! 
Rohan's ancestor, it may be as well to inform our readers, se- 
cured the friendship of Henry IV. by his bravery at the siege of 
Amiens, and afterwards distinguished himself so honourably at 
the head of the Huguenots, for whom he obtained advantageous 
terms from Louis XIII. He wrote on several important sub- 
jects with great success. Having joined his friend, the Duke of 
Saxe Weimar, against the imperialists, and being mortally wound- 
ed, he died, six weeks after the battle, April 13, 1638. 

One of the most important characters France had produced 
was unquestionably Colbert ; he is now approaching his end. 
But this truly great man must not be suffered to move off the 
stage as one of the common herd of men. I therefore present 
to my reader a short memoir of the Marquis of Segnelai, ga- 
thered from the " Vies des Hommes Illustres de France," the 
" Eloge of M. Necker," the " Biographie Universelle," and 
Voltaire. He was born at Rheims, Aug. 29, 1619. On the side 
of both parents he was connected with the civil service, which 
may have helped forward his introduction to public life, and 
have led to his study of statistics, and investigations of the 
causes of national wealth and greatness, to which abstruse 
points his attention was directed from a very early age. In the 
year 1648, he entered the service of the secretary of state; Le 
Tellier introduced him to Mazarin, whose esteeem he soon 
gained ; and, as Colbert remained firm in his attachment to the 
cardinal throughout the stormy period of the Fronde, he was at 
length rewarded by honourable and lucrative employment. On 
his death-bed, Mazarin said to the king : " I owe every thing to 
you, Sire ; but, in presenting Colbert to you, I regard my debt 
as in some sort acquitted." We have seen how useful he soon 
proved to Louis, and that he rose on the ruins of the able, but 
corrupt, Fouquet, in 1661, having a new title created for his 
function — Comptroller-general of finance. 

He did not wholly escape censure in his dealings with Fou- 
quet ; but it always appears to bystanders an invidious task to 
be compelled to expose the man one is to succeed ; and all that 
can herein be laid to Colbert's charge is, that the modus ope- 
randi of his detection of Fouquet's frauds was not pleasant. On 
the other hand, we are to remember, in acting for such a master 
as Louis, he was at work for no common man. It certainly 
seems as if Colbert could have done something to mitigate those 
sufferings of Fouquet which he endured in the tower of Pig- 
nerol for many a long year. But again we must bear in mind 
the sovereign he served — a breast impervious to any generous 
sentiment— the abstract personification of selfishness. I cannot 



204 ONEROUS TAXES REMOVED. 

say that it is clear to me the character of this high-minded man 
incurred any stain in the affair of his predecessor's dismissal. 
In 1669, in addition to his other offices, Colbert exercised the 
functions of secretary of state, and minister of marine. About 
a year after this his influence was on the wane, as the haughty 
and polluted monarch clung to Louvois. Being nearly as im- 
moral as his master, by their consummate wickedness they kept 
each other in countenance. To estimate correctly the character 
of Colbert, we are to go back to the days of Sully, since when, 
no minister had seriously endeavoured to lighten the public 
burdens, to reform the system of taxation, nor to introduce 
order and economy into the public expenditure. And the good 
which Sully had done was neglected or undone in the succeeding 
long administrations of Richelieu and Mazarin. 

When Colbert came into office, my reader has seen that all 
was confusion — taxes levied without system, money lavishly 
expended, new taxes created and let out to collectors as fresh 
wants arose. Such was the intricacy and disorder that, not- 
withstanding the imposition of fresh taxes, the money paid into 
the treasury was diminished. The whole was a round of tem- 
porising shifts, and barefaced corruption ; and so was it felt by 
all the servants of the crown that sauve qui pent seems to have 
been the motto on which they all acted. Feeling the insecurity 
of their position, as such a system must unavoidably wind up, 
they were pretty much unchecked in making the most of their 
opportunities while they lasted. We have seen how searching was 
the manner in which the new comptroller-general commenced 
his career— introducing order where before confusion reigned, 
and exacting responsibility from all under his authority. 

Under the pernicious system that exempted the nobility 
from the payment of direct taxes, a great number of persons 
had fraudulently assumed titles and claimed rank, while another 
class had obtained immunity from taxation by the prostitution 
of court favour, or the abuse of official privileges. These Col- 
bert caused to be investigated, and such as failed to establish 
their immunity were compelled to pay their share of the public 
burdens ; to the relief of the labouring classes, on whom nearly 
the whole weight of taxation fell. The public imposts were 
greatly reduced, which approximation towards free trade gave a 
vast stimulus to industry; and provincial tolls were abolished. He 
mitigated the tattle, a burden peculiarly oppressive to the poorer 
cultivators of the soil ; he improved greatly the internal facili- 
lities by making new roads, repairing old ones, cutting canals. 
By all which agriculture and commerce were greatly benefited. 
His own powerful mind led him to do all he could in accordance 
with the doctrines of free trade, but the state of society in ge- 
neral, and of France in particular, compelled him to maintain 



FINANCIAL ABILITY. 205 

prohibitory laws and protecting duties. He is warmly praised 
by Necker for practically maintaining a sliding scale relative to 
corn. We cannot estimate Colbert from this ; for, if the preju- 
dices and mistaken class interest of thei owners of land in 1844 
preclude the benefits of unrestricted importation, how could 
one master-mind possibly emerge from the fog of ancient re- 
strictions, when political economy was no better understood 
than by our present clod-polery ? Moreover, he had to think 
and work out for himself the principles which conduct nations 
to wealth and happiness. 

We have also witnessed the strides he made with what we 
call the shipping interest. Under his able administration, the 
colonies of France were extended, fisheries encouraged, trade 
opened with foreign nations, increased advantages procured 
from the Levant, and the piracies of the barbarians of the nor- 
thern coast of Africa repressed. This proved the commence- 
ment of a task, that France has now well finished, by taking 
possession of Algiers. In the subjugation of that predatory 
race, the gradual, but complete introduction of civilization, and 
the permanent and beneficial maintenance of this large colony, 
I sincerely hope she may find her reward. On Colbert's ac- 
cession to office, he found a debt of 52,000,000 of livres, and 
a revenue of 89,000,000. At his death, a debt of 32,000,000 
and a revenue of 115,000,000; and yet every burden upon the 
people had been greatly reduced. In forming an estimate of 
this, we are to remember, he served a most gorgeous and ex- 
pensive monarch, for vast sums were lavished in courtly pomp, 
and a series of prodigiously expensive wars. 

In the bold taking up and clever extrication of disastrous and 
ruinous affairs, surrounded on all hands with difficulty and dan- 
ger, must be traced real ability. In the transition from debt to 
prosperity is found the best eulogium : — 

" With that mute eloquence which passes speech." — Rogers. 

It has been also shown how he gave opportunity, by his efforts 
as minister of marine, for the talents of such men as Duquesne, 
Forbin and others, to be developed in raising the French navy. 
While strict in attention to economy, Colbert never disregarded 
the arts and sciences ; under him France witnessed profuse ex- 
penditure in works of public splendour and utility. The city of 
Paris is indebted to him for much of its present magnificence, as 
many of the great works were either constructed by him or im- 
proved under his instructions. He took the precaution to pre- 
fer a native, to an Italian artist, in the construction of the splen- 
did colonnade of the Louvre. The Louvre he always impressed 
upon Louis the necessity of embellishing, in preference to wast- 
ing large sums on the sandy plains of Versailles. Under his 

N 



206 LAST MOMENTS OF COLBERT. 

fostering hand, too, the paving, lighting, and watching, of Paris 
were remodelled, and taken under the charge of government. 
To literary and scientific merit Colbert was a liberal and active 
patron ; and at his instance Louis XIV. granted pensions to the 
most distinguished savans of Europe. 

Under his auspices were founded the Academie des Inscrip- 
tions, and Academies des Sciences ; the Academies of Painting 
and Sculpture, and the School of Rome, whither the most pro- 
mising pupils of the Parisian academies were sent to complete 
their studies. The King's Library, and the Jardin des Plantes, 
were extended; the Observatory of Paris was founded ; and the 
celebrated astronomers, Cassini, and Huygens, were invited 
thither. Colbert accomplished much, but the jealousy of the 
unworthy Louvois, and his conceited master, caused him to 
leave much undone, and their united opposition succeeded in 
negativing much of the benefit he had achieved. His plans 
being deranged by their insane projects, to carry on the machine 
of state, this able minister was compelled to have recourse 
again to taxes he had abandoned. The good he had accom- 
plished was forgotten by the fickle multitude. His high spirit 
would have led him to resign, by doing which he would have 
avoided much unpopularity; but he saw the peril to his country. 
Hoping yet to serve his ungrateful fellow subjects and opinion- 
ated sovereign, he sought his reward in conscious integrity ; and 
showed that he had undergone no change, although his powers 
had become crippled by adverse circumstances. 

That aristocrats should hate Colbert can easily be understood, 
but that he should be turned upon by that people whom he had 
so essentially served, to whose benefit every power of his capa- 
cious mind had been dedicated, only affords another lesson of 
the folly of expecting a grateful return from the fickle multi- 
tude. They could bawl themselves hoarse as the heartless and 
profligate king was passing, with the degradation of misplaced 
praise and ignorant adulation. While the hatred of the people, 
in serving whom Colbert's life fell a sacrifice, broke out into 
open threats and concealed efforts at poisoning him! A priest 
(mark, reader, once more, as a fitting agent at assassination, a 
minister of religion was employed !) acknowledged on his exa- 
mination to have administered poisonous drugs to the great 
minister. Not producing a fatal effect, a slight illness only fol- 
lowed. He, however, was now sinking : doubtless the anguish 
of his dreadful disease, the stone, kept pace with the moral pain 
such a mind must suffer from seeing so much of his ability in 
vain applied to heal the wounds of his country. Still, though 
sensibly declining throughout the years 1681 and 1682, he con- 
tinued indefatigable in his official duties ; till a fearful accession 
of his dreadful malady at last forced him to cease from his la- 



MADAME DE FUNTANGE. 207 

bours. While Louis could thwart and neglect his able and faith- 
ful servant, he could not let pass an opportunity of being praised 
for attention to a dying minister, whose celebrity filled Europe. 
He therefore proceeded, with a splendid train, to Colbert's resi- 
dence : leaving these butterflies without, he went to the sick 
man's bed- side, and expressed strong wishes for his recovery. 
This interest soothed the mind of the departing minister, and it 
is reported that the only tear he shed was one of pleasure for 
Louis' visit. 

He died, September 6, 1683; and, such is the multitude! 
the hatred of the people towards their benefactor was so great 
that, from a fear of outrage to his remains, his funeral was cele- 
brated by night, and under military escort I Thus terminated 
the career of one of the greatest men that ever lived; who 
was almost the first political economist the world ever saw. 
He seems to have been a century in advance of the rest of so- 
ciety; and, had his schemes been carried out, France would 
have been raised to a pinnacle of power and real glory, such as 
no country has yet been suffered to reach — or, attaining, to pre- 
serve. We have seen how his very heart was crushed by the 
opposition of the inflated and selfish being who wielded the 
destinies of his beloved country. Louis' appreciation of his 
servants, eminent as many of them confessedly were, seems 
always to have fastened on the tinsel and corruption, rather 
than on the solidity of parts and integrity of character, requisite 
for the duties of their high functions. 

Madame de Fontange, another royal concubine, being with 
child, was now created a duchess ; but " did not long enjoy her 
good fortune," according to Voltaire. She died at the early age 
of 20, of an illness contracted during her confinement ; and the 
son she had did not survive his mother. The Abbe Choisi says 
she was as beautiful as an angel, and as silly as a goose. This 
removed the last declared rival to the proud Montespan, of 
whom the " most Christian" king now began to be tired. This 
period of his life becomes intimately connected with the rise of a 
new favourite, Madame de Maintenon, whose remarkable history 
calls for a more than ordinarily careful introduction. Francoise 
d'Aubigne was granddaugher of Theodore Agrippa d'Aubigne, 
who filled the office of gentleman in ordinary to Henry IV. Her 
mother was daughter to the governor of the prison of Trom- 
pette, who, commiserating the fate of Constantius d'Aubigne, 
imprisoned for offending Richelieu, compassed his deliverance. 
This son of Theodore, actuated by feelings of gratitude and 
love to the daughter of this Bourdelais gentleman (for such was 
the governor of the castle), after his enlargement, married her 
in 1627. He took her and his family to America; whence, after 
a few years, they returned to France, when they were both, by 



208 EARLY CAREER OF DE MAINTENON. 

order of the court, sent to Niort prison, in Poitou. In this 
prison, Nov. 27, 1635, Frances was born — to a destiny which 
embraced all the vicissitudes of fortune. Constantius took all his 
family once more to America, and settled at Martinique, where 
he retrieved his fortunes, and would have become independent 
but for the detestable propensity of gaming. Soon after their 
arrival, Frances was left by the carelessness of a servant on the 
shore, and was near being devoured there by a serpent, we are 
told by Voltaire. Her father died in 1646 ; her mother returned 
to France ; leaving her daughter a pledge in the hands of her 
creditors. At twelve years of age she was sent back to France, 
and taken under the hospitable protection of her aunt Madame 
Villette. As, however, Frances had been brought up a pro- 
testant, an order from the court was obtained to remove her ; 
and by artifice and persuasion she was converted to the Roman 
Catholic church by her bigotted relation, Madame de Neuillant, 
who was mother to the Duchess de Navailles. After experienc- 
ing the utmost severity from Madame de Neuillant, and going 
through very great hardships, by reason of being subjected to 
menial employments, in 1651, she preferred, to this irksome 
confinement, an union with Paul Scarron, who lodged near her 
in la Rue d'Enfer (Hell Street). 

He was of ancient family and illustrious by great alliances, 
but he lowered himself by the burlesque, which he made his 
profession ; he was filthy as an author, and gross, too frequently, 
in his conversation. In his person he was disfigured, very 
weak, and had those infirmities that rendered his choice of a 
young wife worse than absurd. Old, also, and poor, the com- 
pensation for these deficiencies and coarsenesses, or at least all 
that approximated to a set-off, was to be found in the warmth 
of his heart and the readiness of his humour. At his parties 
met the wits of Paris, and many distinguished ladies whose 
fastidiousness would not anticipate being shocked with the 
"filthy conversation of the wicked." Before 15 years old, this 
persecuted girl was handed over to the marital guardianship of 
this old satyr. Sensitive and discerning, her melancholy pros- 
pects caused an involuntary flood of tears to burst from her on 
first being shown into that domicile of which she then became 
mistress. Scarron must not, however, be held up too freely to 
odium, for he had a soul capable of generosity; and having, 
long before the marriage, admired the beauty and wit of the 
interesting orphan, he offered, himself to marry her, or to give 
her a dowry if she chose to marry any other. Those qualifi- 
cations that had attracted this infirm abbe caused her eagerly 
to be sought by the best society in Paris on her removal to her 
husband's house ; and it is matter of record — I fear, requiring 
little corroboration — that she was not much more scrupulous 
than the French ladies have ever been. 



HER STRAITS IN MIDDLE LIFE. 209 

Although after her elevation it became outre to disparage the 
object of the royal choice by reminiscences of early laxity of mo- 
rals, we are constrained, from the mass of contemporary evidence, 
to believe what under the circumstances could hardly otherwise 
have happened. While a vast exactitude was observed in very 
frequent attendance at church, and other religious externals, as 
we generally find, a pretty accurate estimate may be formed 
from the voluntary associations parties make — Madame Scarron 
chose for her intimate the notorious Ninon de l'Enclos — an open 
prostitute. Between them a correspondence ensued, and as Mr. 
James observes, " certainly in Madame Scarron's letters to that 
lady there is not one word which does not tend to establish the 
belief that the conduct of Ninon de l'Enclos met with full ap- 
probation, if not with imitation, on the part of Madame Scar- 
ron." It was reported that a criminal intimacy existed between 
her and Fouquet — this may admit of some doubt ; but, looking 
to her great intimacy with almost all the infamous women of 
Paris — Mesdames de Montchevreuil, De Pommereuil, Ninon de 
l'Enclos, and others; looking at the state of French society; 
and the marked temptations placed before one so young and 
courted ; I confess, for one, the want of a credence sufficiently 
elastic to embrace a favourable opinion of the chastity of the 
wife of Scarron. 

She was relieved from this eonjugal connexion by the death 
of the abbe in 1660 ; and was thereby plunged into the greatest 
difficulties. Having retired to the Ursuline Convent in Rue St. 
Jacques, owing to the discontinuation of the pension of her late 
husband ; at the instance of Marechale d'Albret she was agree- 
ably surprised by its renewal, and even augmentation. She 
withdrew from the Ursulines ; and now appears to have con- 
ducted her affairs with discretion. It is said that marriage was 
offered her by one of great wealth, which she refused because 
he was an abandoned young man. Immediately after this re- 
fusal, she was once more thrown into excess of trouble by the 
death of the queen-mother, as this again deprived her of her 
pension. She retired to the Hospitallers' Convent at Paris, 
where she underwent torrents of abuse from her friends for her 
imprudent rejection of the hand of the young libertine. We 
are told by the Cardinal de Fleury that, after long solicitation 
for a pension of 1,500 livres, the king at length gave her 2,000, 
addressing her graciously, thus : " Madam, I have made you 
wait a long time — but you have so many friends that I was re- 
solved to have this merit with you on my own account." It 
was a sort of standing remark of Louis', for the cardinal men- 
tions it as the more to be noted by him, the king having made 
use of precisely the same compliment on presenting him with 
the bishopric of Frcjus. Louis had at length been induced 

n 3 



210 LOUIS APPOINTS DE MAINTENON 

reluctantly to consider the case of Scarron's widow at the inter- 
cession of Madame de Montespan, which that haughty lady had 
certainly exercised with good feeling. Again possessed of com- 
parative wealth, she plunged into alternate devotion and dissi- 
pation — but began to prefer the latter, and to drop hints of 
giving up the former — because it made her yawn! 

Madame de Montespan cast her eyes on Madame Scarron, 
as a suitable person to take charge of the fruit of double adul- 
tery in the person of the Duke of Maine and others, born by 
Montespan to the king. Voltaire says that Louis himself had 
seen her suitability, and privately sent Louvois to propose the 
office to the widow. Other accounts state the proposal to have 
come from the concubine herself, under the thin veil of igno- 
rance of the birth of these children, about which she was merely 
commissioned by a friend to consult her. Madame Scarron 
saw through the matter at once, and said, if they were the 
king's children, and he ordered it, she would take the charge. 
To the waters of Barege, then, in 1671, did she convey the 
Duke of Maine. The secret of his birth — he was now a year 
old — was known to very few. Thenceforward she conducted 
the royal bastards' education ; and in writing to the king, her 
letters so charmed him that she soon filled an anomalous situa- 
tion. As the progress of sin is hardening, Montespan had by 
this time cast off all care of modesty; and, glorying in her 
shameful adultery, a house was openly taken for Madame Scar- 
ron at Vaugirard, with a suitable establishment. The veil of 
secrecy at length was removed — she was thereby now brought 
much more into the notice of the king, who had before heard 
a good deal about her talents and learning. This had created a 
degree of prejudice against her, as his own neglected education 
must have caused him, through life, to feel the humiliation of 
inferiority where letters were concerned. 

When the virtue and devotion of Madame Scarron are talked 
of, we must carry back our eyes to her past life, and to her 
present position. Daily opportunities were afforded her of 
spending much time in private with Louis and Montespan ; 
but this never seems to have led to the uncourtliness of exer- 
cising her virtue in discountenancing those amours, which seem 
not to have shocked her piety. Madame de Montespan appears 
always to have been determined on promoting the fortunes of 
Madame Scarron; and she endeavoured to 'effect a marriage 
between her and a gentleman of high fortune. Mde. Scarron 
refused, and her motives were differently represented. By some 
she was said to be so attached to the king's children that she 
rejected any thing which could separate her from them. In- 
deed, the Duke of Maine had prospered under her tutelage to 
that degree that, pleasing Louis by a smart reply on one occa- 



GOVERNESS TO HIS BASTARDS. 211 

sion, the king made his governess a present of 100,000 crowns. 
About this time the manor of Maintenon, ten leagues from Ver- 
sailles, was purchased for her by the king, and the widow of 
Scarron thenceforward was called after her estate ; as it appears 
the king once so addressed her. It is said that shortly after 
De Montespan first saw reason to notice the growing fondness 
of Louis for the pious governess of her children ; who now had 
frequent quarrels with their mother. 

That that mother was as wicked as it generally falls to the 
lot of humanity to become ; that, farther, she was proud, domi- 
neering, and revengeful — lost to all sense of modesty, and actu- 
ated by the most selfish considerations, in nearly all the trans- 
actions of her lewd life, is beyond a doubt. But, as " none are 
all evil," it is unquestionable that the royal concubine had 
raised from the extreme of degradation, her, who by this time, 
had created such an impression in the breast of the royal 
adulterer as alarmed and irritated her benefactress. On occa- 
sion of some mortification from the " serious " Maintenon, it is 
recorded that Louis replied to the remonstrances of his mis- 
tress — " Well, if you dislike her, remove her." Montespan, as 
a mother, albeit a sinning mother, saw Mde. Scarron's value 
to her offspring, and yet prized much about the woman she had 
lifted from the dunghill. Empowered, as she thus became, to 
drive her from the court, she contented herself, on some irrita- 
tion, with hinting to Maintenon her permission to discharge 
her. Madame de Maintenon so determinately insisted upon 
acting on this hint as to cause sincere regret to both king and 
courtezan; nor did she forego her resolution, until the king 
had condescended to implore the indignant governante to con- 
tinue her esteemed services. To these entreaties he added the 
encouragement of being freed from the interference of De Mon- 
tespan. It appears to me that Montespan, having made this 
false step, the more able player, Maintenon, followed up the 
vantage thus gained ; and, by the adroitness of her moves, at 
length check-mated her adversary. At all events, the edifying 
spectacle presented by her actual condition, her prospective 
schemes, crafty struggles, and cunning and contradictory let- 
ters, exhibit the far-famed Madame de Maintenon in a most 
questionable light. 

It may now be assumed that an almost avowed contest was 
kept up between Montespan and Maintenon, not for the heart — 
they both well knew he had none — but for the control of the 
royal profligate. Louis, like our own Henry VIII., had occa- 
sional scruples. And if, when tired of the gentle and virtuous 
matron who carried the sympathy of Europe, and at length, to 
use her own expressive words, reached the kingdom of heaven 
through troubles, the English tyrant could affect to have felt his 



212 OCCASIONAL REMORSE OF LOUIS. 

conscience pricked, Louis XIV. too had periods of remorse. By 
the preaching of some of the court divines — who, we may 
guess, did not probe the royal wound very deeply, Louis had 
his feelings in some degree awakened — these fits of remorse, we 
may readily assume, were soon assuaged. One in particular had 
been allayed by the addition to the harem of the young lady, in 
connexion with whom, I introduced the early career of Madame 
de Maintenon. The Marquis de la Fare records another in- 
stance of evanescent repentance and alarm : " the king met the 
host one day, as it was being carried in procession to one of his 
officers, who was at the point of death ; and, to set a good ex- 
ample, turned round and followed it to the chamber of the dying 
man. The spectacle of the chamber of death so struck and 
affected him as to awaken thoughts long excluded from his 
bosom ; and on his return to Madame de Montespan, he com- 
municated to her the remorse he felt in regard to the criminality 
of their connexion. He found her in the same state of mind 
as himself, and a separation accordingly took place." But their 
goodness was like the early cloud and the morning dew ; for, 
though the piety of de Maintenon was powerfully seconded by 
the brilliant Bishop of Meaux, to dissuade the two criminals 
from reviving their disgraceful adultery, their repentance was 
not strong enough against long habits of sin. 

However, Madame de Montespan went to Bourbon, leaving 
her pious rival with her charge the Duke of Maine, about the 
king, with favour so fast increasing that bystanders, witnessing 
the new advent, began to trim their courtly sails. She per- 
suaded the royal profligate of her sole desire for his good ; and, 
while the dethroned strumpet had ruled through the power of 
passion, the more wary and practised widow governed by the 
empire of mind. In a letter to Madame de Fontenac, her 
cousin, in whom she reposed absolute confidence, Madame de 
Maintenon, speaking of the advances of the king, says : " I send 
him away always in affliction — but never in despair." The two 
rivals had agreed to write memoirs of all that passed at court; 
but this work was not carried very far. These papers are said 
greatly to have diverted De Montespan in the last years of her 
life, as she amused herself with reading them to her friends. 
The king's self-reproaches became frequent — several times did 
these double adulterers separate — partly from remorse, real or 
affected, and partly through the manoeuvres of De Maintenon. 
De Montespan often became furious — scenes of recrimination 
took place. She brought forward the well known letters found 
among Fouquet's papers, to show the infamous connexion be- 
tween that corrupt minister and this female professor of virtue. 
The pious governess, denying their authenticity, attributed their 
concoction to De Montespan ; in which it is to be supposed she 



DE MONTESPAN AGAIN IN FAVOUR. 213 

convinced the king of her justification. She still rose in the 
ascendant; and, in 1680, was appointed second lady in waiting 
to the dauphin's consort on her marriage. 

The progress of matters may be divined by learning from her 
own letters that the king used to send for her from time to time 
to spend two hours or more with him alone in his cabinet ; and 
proved himself " the most agreeable man in his kingdom." The 
estrangement of Louis from De Montespan became strengthened 
by her violent remonstrances : again, however, they were appa- 
rently united. The dethroned mistress vented her sharpest male- 
dictions against her whom she viewed as an ingrate — and who, 
despite their frequent quarrels, on a subject which one would 
think admitted of no adjustment, really would appear to have 
had a strong bias towards her benefactress. Again the fondness 
of the king for De Montespan seems to have made an unex- 
pectedly strong manifestation; but, within three months, the in- 
fluence once more waned. The Duke of Maine was " the idol 
of the king, yet the more his fondness for her offspring aug- 
mented, the more his love for the mother diminished," as writes 
De Maintenon in one of her letters. She now interested her 
mistress, the dauphiness, in a joint effort to detach Louis from 
De Montespan. But that mistress had a great supporter in 
Louvois, who having again brought them together, from a letter 
of De Maintenon's written while explanations were proceeding, 
we learn her fears. She says : " the king is firm, but Madame 
de Montespan is very charming in her tears." 

In another of her letters she expresses herself thus : " I am 
devoured by chagrin. I had flattered myself that Madame de 
Montespan would cease to persecute me, and that I should be 
able to labour in peace for my salvation with a princess who gives 
all the court an example greatly admired, but very little followed. 
Madame de Montespan is reconciled with the king. Louvois 
managed it. She has omitted nothing to injure me — describing 
me in the most horrible manner. My God ! thy will be done. 
She came to my house yesterday, and overwhelmed me with re- 
proaches and abuse : the king surprised us in the middle of a 
conversation, which ended better than it began. He ordered 
us to embrace, and love each other; but you know the last can- 
not be commanded. The king added, laughing, that he found it 
more easy to restore peace to all Europe than between two wo- 
men, and that we took fire upon trifles." In this state of per- 
plexity, matters proceeded : the king, charmed with her powers, 
made improper overtures to her : in her letters it is stated she 
invariably resisted his proposals, nor would she encourage his 
encreasing passion. 

This is certainly strengthened by the great partiality the un- 
fortunate queen felt and manifested for her. That life of dis- 
tress was fast drawing to a close, and as she was struck by a 



214 DEATH OF THE QUEEN. 

disease, judicious treatment for which was not then to be had, 
Madame de Maintenon attended by her bed-side, and that ill- 
treated and virtuous royal lady fell into the arms of De Main- 
tenon, and expired. The king was in an adjoining room — stung 
by another fit of remorse, on contemplating his unfaithfulness to 
that young heart which had trusted her all with him, who had so 
cruelly betrayed that trust ! At that awful moment, as De Main- 
tenon was retiring from the bed where she had administered 
such consolation — no longer wanted by the cold clay that alone 
remained — Louis sent a nobleman to detain her, as " the king 
had need of her support" at such a moment. She followed, 
and shortly comforted the sudden penitent, him who, Voltaire 
says, "was a good son, without being governed by his mother; 
a good husband (!) even without being faithful ; a good father, a 
good master, and always amiable with dignity I" 

Of a piece with the adulation of the unbelieving philosopher 
is the florid eulogy of the celebrated Bishop of Meaux. When 
called to speak over the dead body of the queen, " whose heart 
had withered under the wrongs a licentious husband, amidst ex- 
ternal respect, had heaped upon her," Bossuet finds it a fitting 
opportunity to pronounce at the same time a panegyric upon 
the king. He recounts the victories won by the French arms, and 
ascribes them all to the prowess of his hero. But Louis is not 
only the taker of cities — he is the conqueror of himself. The royal 
sensualist is praised for the government of his passions ; the de- 
spot, for his clemency and justice ; and the grasping conqueror, 
for his moderation ! ! The nuptials of Louis and Maria- Theresa 
were celebrated June 9, 1660, and she died in 1683. Her off- 
spring were Louis, dauphin ; Philip, Duke of Anjou ; Charles, 
Duke of Berri, also two sons and three daughters, who died 
young. 

Either designedly, or involuntarily, Madame de Maintenon 
had become associated in the mind of Louis with all that he 
wanted to fall upon in periods of anxiety and difficulty. He 
again and again made her the most flattering proposals; and for 
the space of some months there appeared a degree of incerti- 
tude about the movements of this extremely prudent lady which 
puzzled the by-standers. The secret became explained. What 
notions soever of virtue belonged to Searron's widow, she had 
refused to become the mistress of the king. Now the royal bed 
was opened by the demise of the queen, she had twisted the 
meshes of her net too cautiously to fear catching the prize. 
Father la Chaise secretly married them, in 1686, in a little chapel 
at the end of an apartment at Versailles. Voltaire says, with- 
out the least stipulation whatsoever ; but, on the other hand, 
Harlai de Chamvalon, Archbishop of Paris, and Louvois, de- 
clared they exacted a promise from the king that he would never 
divulge this marriage. Besides, Bontems, governor of Versailles 



MARRIAGE OF LOUIS AND DE MAINTENON. 215 

and Montchevreuil, valet-de-ehambre, were witnesses to the 
private celebration of this wedding °. it was matter of long dis- 
pute, but is now placed beyond all doubt. Louis XIV. was 
then in his 48th year, and De Maintenon 52. Whether or not 
the lady had herein been actuated by ambition, or really at 
length felt that it would promote her usefulness towards France, 
the king himself, and his children ; or whether a certain sort of 
quiet domination suited her character, under the specious mask 
of moderation; we must acquit her of a feeling of passion, 
which ought long to have been extinct in both their breasts. 

Her subsequent conduct was every way respectable; her 
elevation proved little more than a retreat. Shut up in her 
apartment, upon the same floor with the king's, she confined 
herself to the society of two or three ladies, as retired as herself, 
and even these she saw but seldom ; and placed where every 
desire could now be gratified, she appears to have combined 
therewith benevolence and religion. She declined assuming 
the royal coat of arms, but, obliterating Scarron's, she merely 
adopted her own on her carriage. The king came to her apart- 
ment every day after dinner, before and after supper, and con- 
tinued there till midnight. Here he transacted business with 
his ministers, while Madame de Maintenon employed herself at 
the same time in reading or needle-work. She never showed 
any fondness for talking of state affairs ; often seeming wholly 
ignorant of them, and carefully avoiding whatsoever had the 
least appearance of cabal or intrigue. She studied more to 
please him who governed than to govern ; and preserved her 
credit by never employing it but with the utmost circumspec- 
tion. Neither can she be accused of nepotism, for she scarcely 
asked for any thing for her relations. She conducted herself 
with such prudence as never to parade the superiority of her 
understanding, that, at the little councils held in her chamber, 
Louis felt would often assist their deliberations. The king, 
when at a loss, would smilingly ask her advice, endeavouring 
to cover his own inferiority by a jocose manner. 

It has already been stated that one of the king's daughters, 
by Madame de Montespan, had been married to the grandson 
of Conde. Louis had married two more children he had by 
her, Mademoiselle de Blois to the Duke de Chartres (afterwards 
regent of the kingdom), and the Duke of Maine to Louisa-Be- 
nedicta of Bourbon, grand-daughter to Conde, a princess cele- 
brated for her wit and genius, and her taste in the fine arts. 
After the marriage of her daughter, Madame de Montespan 
appeared no more at court. She had been stung by the success 
of De Maintenon, and now to behold her occupying a seat in 
the royal carriage, which she herself had so long filled, mad- 
dened this haughty woman. Instead of at once abandoning 



216 DEATH OF DE MONTESPAN. 

the scenes of her former triumphs and present humiliation, she 
hovered about Louis with abject efforts at recovering her lost 
ground. As she could not be otherwise shaken off, the king 
and his new wife joined in deputing her own son — perhaps by 
the cutting nature of such a message, by such an envoy, to shut 
out all revival of hope — to inform her she had better altogether 
retire! The king appointed her 1,000 louis-d'ors a month. 
One of her biographers says, she was rather ashamed of her 
faults, than penitent for them ; and Voltaire remarks that, being 
past the age when her imagination could be struck with such 
forcible impressions, she did not go into a monastery. Thus 
half of her life was spent in princely grandeur, and the other in 
merited contempt. 

As a set-off to those dishonoured priests I have had occasion 
to mention, it is right my reader should know that one minister 
of religion to whom the disgraced woman applied to be pointed 
to the source of comfort, told her that her excessive pride must 
be replaced by humility, and that, having outraged shamefully 
her duty to her husband, she must entirely submit herself to his 
will. Bitter as must have been the medicine, she wrote to offer 
to join him, if he would permit that ; or to go wheresoever he 
might please to direct, and live in any way he might choose. 
He naturally replied he hoped not to see her again — all he de- 
sired being never more even to hear of her. She wandered 
about detested by all, for such had been her excessive pride that 
she had no friends ; and the reign of her influence had been re- 
garded as a judgment from heaven. As old age approached, a 
monarch, who has reigned from Adam to the last human being 
who has crossed the impassable line, came on with a withering 
aspect, which all the blandishments of this great beauty could 
not soothe. Such was her personal attraction that, at the age 
of 66, her charms remained nearly unimpared. Death was full 
of terrors to one who knew no refuge. She would always have 
four or live women to sleep in the room with her, and engaged 
them to talJc all night, that she might be sure they were awake. 
If pleasantry be permissible on so solemn a subject, this king 
of terrors was not to be frightened away even with that contri- 
vance — beyond which nothing more likely could be devised. 
Having lost too much blood by injudicious venesection, she be- 
came alarmingly ill. Her legitimate son attended the bed-side 
of his erring parent ; and she was soon removed to a judgment 
where there can be no mistake; and ushered into the presence 
of that Almighty King, who, while his word can " dash whole 
worlds to death," so terrible is his anger — yet in mercy has given 
one name, and only one, through which sinners of the deepest 
dye may turn and live. 

Madame de Maintenon is reflected on by some writers for 



THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. ' 217 

not aggrandizing her family connexions ; one of her nieces, who 
afterwards married the famous Viscount Bolingbroke, reproached 
her for doing so little. She even told the all-powerful lady, in 
a passion, " You take a pleasure in your moderation, and in 
seeing your family the victims of it." This charming woman 
possessed all her aunt's wit, and far more than her aunt's beauty. 
She was in weak health ; but her vivacity was extreme, and her 
conversation just what should be the conversation of a woman 
who shines without striving for it, says Bulwer. Bolingbroke 
loved her to the last, and she returned his fondness : in one of 
his letters to Swift, he says, " I am not ashamed to say to you 
that I admire her more every hour of my life." Voltaire 
blames De Maintenon for carrying conjugal submission too far, 
which, by the bye, very few husbands have to complain of. Hav- 
ing a sincere friendship for Racine, she still neglected to protect 
him from the vexation of the king for some trilling offence. If 
from coldness, or conviction of the prerogatives of a king, she 
conferred few benefits, De Choisi tells us, on the other hand, she 
was free from revengeful feelings. Though Louvois had been 
the long declared friend of De Montespan, and had thrown him- 
self on his knees to supplicate the king's abandoning the inten- 
tion to marry so obscure a person as the widow of Scarron, she 
not only pardoned the interference, but pacified the king to- 
wards the minister, on occasions when the unpleasantness of his 
temper too often chafed Louis. If in marrying this extraordi- 
nary woman the king had acquired an agreeable and submissive 
companion, he had also secured one competent to lead his im- 
petuous and unchastened spirit, and who had the rare art of 
seeming always to follow him whom in reality she was leading. 

It now becomes necessary to record what would have been 
a rare and striking romance had the matter been fictitious ; but 
which, being true, presents one of the most interesting and 
painful events connected with those unfortunates who have been 
banished from the society of their fellow men. The very ex- 
pression The Man in the Iron Mas/a must have struck us all in 
our boyhood. The detail has left an impression which classes 
this heartless piece of cruelty, of the most selfish of monarchs, 
among the most barbarous of penal visitations. If indeed the 
word penal be applicable ; for at present we are wholly in the 
dark as to who was the prisoner, and what was his offence. The 
public were excited by extraordinary popular rumours respect- 
ing a masked prisoner who appears to have been young, of 
noble appearance, distinguished bearing, and beautiful per- 
son, sent in profound secrecy to an island on the coast of 
Provence. 

Voltaire informs us that, " some months after the death of 
Mazarin, there happened an affair the parallel of which is not 

o 



118 THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 

to be met with in history; and, what is not less strange, all the 
historians seems to have been ignorant of it. There was sent 
with the utmost secrecy to the castle of the island of St. Mar- 
garet, on the coast of Provence, a prisoner unknown, of a 
stature above the ordinary size, young and of a most noble and 
kautiful appearance. This prisoner wore upon the road a mask, 
Df which the lower part had steel springs, contrived so that he 
could eat without taking it off. Orders were given that, if he 
showed any inclination to discover himself, he should be im- 
mediately killed. He remained in this island till St. Mars, 
governor of Pignerol, an office of great trust, being made go- 
vernor of the Bastille in the year 1690, went and brought him 
from the isle of St. Margaret to the Bastille, observing always to 
keep his face masked. The Marquis of Louvois went to see 
him in the island, before his removal, where he spoke to him 
standing, and with the utmost respect. This stranger being 
carried to the Bastille, had the best accommodations which that 
castle could afford : nothing that he desired was refused him : 
his strongest passion was for lace and linen of extraordinary 
fineness. 

" His table was always served in the most elegant manner, 
and the governor seldom sat down in his presence. An old 
physician of the Bastille, who had often attended this remarkable 
person in his disorders, declared that he had never seen his face, 
though lie had often examined his tongue and other parts of 
his body. The physician said he was very finely shaped, his 
complexion somewhat brown, his voice agreeable and engaging. 
He never complained of his condition, nor gave the least hint 
who he was. A famous surgeon, who was son-in-law of this 
physician, is ready to attest the truth of this narrative, which 
has been so often confirmed by Bernaville, who succeeded 
St. Mars. 

" This unknown person died in 1704, and was buried in the 
night, in the parish of St. Paul. What increases the wonder is 
that at the time when he was sent to the island of St. Margaret 
no considerable person disappeared in Europe. This prisoner 
was doubtless so : for this remarkable adventure happened the 
first days of his being in the island. The governor himself set 
the dishes on the table, and then withdrew after having locked 
him up. The prisoner one day wrote with the point of his knife 
upon a silver plate, and flung it out of the window to a boat 
that was ashore near the foot of the tower. A fisherman, to 
whom the boat belonged, picked up the plate, and carried it to 
the governor. Quite astonished, he said to the fisherman. Have 
you read what is w T ritten on this plate ? has any body seen it in 
your hands ? ' I can't read/ replied the fisherman, ' I have but 
this moment found it, and no creature has seen it.' The fellow 



SPECULATIONS CONCERNING HIM, 219 

was detained until the governor had been thoroughly informed 
that he had never learnt to read, and that the plate had been seen 
by nobody. ' Go/ said the governor to the fisherman, ' it is very 
lucky for you that you cannot read/ Among the assertors of 
this fact, there is one of very great credit still living. Chamillard 
was the last minister who knew this strange secret. The Marshal 
de Feuillade, who married his daughter, has told me that, when 
his father-in-law was dying, he conjured him, on his knees, to 
tell him who this person was, who had been known by no other 
name than that of the man with the iron mask. Chamillard 
answered him that it was a secret of state, and he had sworn 
never to reveal it." Thus far Voltaire — he elsewhere says that 
"there are many of my contemporaries remaining who can 
prove the truth of what I assert ; and I do not know any fact 
either more extraordinary or more clearly established. Some 
days before the prisoner's death, he informed his medical at- 
tendant that he believed he was about 60 years of age." Almost 
all that is known about this mysterious personage is ably con- 
veyed in the foregoing extract. Of course, conjecture has been 
busy as to who could be the object of such close and cruel 
sequestration; and six have been selected from amongst those 
who figured in the days of Louis XIV. by the various writers, who 
have been represented with confidence as the individual who 
terminated his life under such mysterious circumstances : — 

" The Count de Vermandois, natural son of Louis XIV., by 
Mademoiselle de la Valliere. 

2. '" An elder, a twin, or a younger brother of Louis XIV. 
himself. 

3. "The well known Duke of Beaufort, celebrated in the 
wars of the Fronde. 

4. " Ardewicks, the Armenian patriarch at Constantinople. 

5. " The celebrated financier Fouquet. 

6. " Hercules Anthony Mathioli, secretary to the Duke of 
Mantua." 

I have copied the last few lines from Mr. James's valuable 
work, the well-known writer who has gone so deeply into 
the history of this period — ransacking every one who has at 
all treated upon the subject. In my opinion, he has sensibly 
demolished every theory at an extended length which a mere 
condensation will not admit of. I shall avail myself of a few 
of his conclusive remarks; and content myself with but little 
of my own, except to make some comments on a miserable 
article which appeared on Sept. 20, 1834, in "the Saturday Ma- 
gazine." It would be hardly worth notice but for the weight 
the respectability of that journal may throw around it, and for 
the unbecoming eoc -cathedra tone that characterises those pue- 
rile conjectures. I refer such of my readers as wish to 2:0 more 

02 



220 WHO HE WAS NOT. 

into detail to the most able and interesting pages of the queen's 
historiographer. 

1. Louis of Bourbon, Count of Vermandois, was born Oct. 2, 
1667. He became vicious, and, for misconduct to his mother, 
Louis forbad his appearance at court, about the middle of the 
year 1683. This severity produced a salutary effect; he became 
regular in his conduct, and in his attendance at church, and at 
the academy. The king now sent him to the army at Courtray, 
where he took a fever, and died Nov. 19, 1683. It was said 
that, in a passion, he had struck the dauphin, who was 22 years 
old, for which offence, and previous misconduct, he was con- 
demned by Louis to the iron mask. Abundant materials dis- 
prove this romance— there being not one word of truth in his 
relapsing into his former misconduct, and unquestionable evi- 
dence of his death, and being sincerely mourned for by the 
king. 

2. As to a brother of Louis XIV. (besides the Duke of Or- 
leans) we have no evidence of the existence of such a person. 
Some say Anne of Austria bore him to the Duke of Bucking- 
ham (see pages 2 and 3 of this work) ; some describe him as a 
twin-brother of Louis XIV. ; some as a younger brother, by 
many years, in consequence of a criminal intercourse with Ma- 
zarin. If such a person ever existed, the supposition of his 
being the unfortunate prisoner acquires a degree of probability. 
Even Louis' own legitimacy was often called in question — per- 
haps not without foundation. 

3. The Duke of Beaufort had rendered himself offensive by 
a long course of insolent and factious opposition ; but hardly 
enough so to receive the renown of being the man in the mask. 
He was unquestionably killed at Candia, and although, amidst 
the multitudes who fell and the consequent confusion, his body 
was not found, funeral services were instituted in his honour. 
Moreover his age forbids the thought — for he would have been 
about 90 at the time of the death of the mask. This conjecture 
therefore is as worthless as that of the Saturday Magazine — and 
cannot possibly be more so. 

4. The Armenian patriarch, who had rendered himself con- 
spicuous in his opposition to the Jesuits when they tried to re- 
duce the whole Greek church to amalgamation with the Roman. 
He was driven from Constantinople, inveigled on board a French 
ship, and carried to the island of St. Marguerite. All this may 
be true; and more, that the Porte tried to procure his discharge, 
remonstrating that the French king should take upon him to 
detain a subject of theirs. Without farther refutation, it would 
seem ridiculous to affect such a mystery about a person whose 
confinement was publicly known, concerning which govern- 
ments corresponded, and relative to whom the discrepancy of 
dates is fatal. 



SCHEME TO SECURE CASAL. 221 

5. Mathioli, secretary to the Duke of Mantua, was stated by 
the Baron de Heiss, and Senac de Meilhan, to be the real Simon 
Pure, M. Delort, in 1825, published a work to establish the 
identity of this secretary with the mask. This was translated by 
the late Lord Dover, who with taste and care worked up his own 
observations, adding that which he considered useful from the 
works of Roux Fazillac, and others. It appears that Antonio 
Mathioli was a native of Bologna, a B.L., at that university, 
and a senator of Mantua. He had filled the post of minister to 
the duke's father. Being a designing, meddlesome character, 
d'Estrades selected him as a fit agent to persuade Ferdinand 
that it was his wisdom to place Casal under the power of France, 
as his only security against Spain and Austria. The goose of a 
prince was caught by the speciousness of the idea, as part of 
the plan was to pay him a good round sum of money — but cer- 
tainly no part of the plan was to vacate after the French should 
have garrisoned Casal. It seems that it was an impromptu 
of d'Estrades — to gratify unexpectedly his ambitious master. 
Louis was now however made acquainted with the negociation ; 
and, after certain arrangements were made, it became necessary 
for the duke and d'Estrades to meet at midnight at Venice. 
Mathioli was despatched to Paris, where the scandalous compact 
was drawn up, he receiving a handsome reward, and promises of 
preferment for his relations. Italian like, he went to the agents 
of Spain and Austria, divulged the iniquitous secret ; and, being 
offered a higher bribe, instead of carrying out his engagements 
with d'Estrades, he sent to say his master had been obliged to 
execute another treaty, which disabled him from keeping his en- 
gagement with France. It was now too late for remonstrance ; 
and at length the mortifying truth was plain — the great Louis 
had been duped by the obscure minion of a petty Italian prince — 
these are the very words of the Saturday Magazine. The ruin of 
the offender was determined, and d'Estrades, by order of Louis, 
seized Mathioli, allowing him no intercourse with any one. The 
instructions of his master were successfully carried out, Mathioli 
was entrapped and carried to Pignerol. From which period, quoth 
the writer, to the day of his death, a space of more than 24 
years, Mathioli remained under the close and watchful custody 
of St. Mars; first at Pignerol, next at Exiles, then at the Isle of 
St. Marguerite, and lastly in the Bastille. . >T 

After two or three questionable, and, if correct, unimpor- 
tant, statements, the writer says, with wonderful complacency, 
" we are warranted in concluding Mathioli was the man in the 
iron mask." And in the remaining paragraphs of this article, 
taking it for granted as placed beyond dispute that the identity 
is established, the editor drops the designation of the man in the 
iron mask, and, whensoever it is necessary to speak of this per- 



222 ABSURD THEORIES REFUTED. 

son, he calls him Mathioli. Towards the conclusion of this very 
feeble piece of reasoning, the writer, as if a little fidgetty lest his 
pretty card-house should be blown down, anticipates a formida- 
ble and fatal difficulty — by a tremulous remark : " If it appear 
strange that a person of no greater consequence than the Duke 
of Mantua's agent should have been the object of these anxious 
precautions, it must be again observed that fiction has thrown 
false lights on the history of his fate !" If this line of argu- 
ment, pro re natd, be admissible, all that appears in the shape of 
history, which we ourselves do not know to be true, may be 
thrown out. We are to remember that the first and the best 
account was published by Voltaire, telling us the simple narra- 
tive. I can see no " false lights" therein. The writer himself, 
under the signature of M., records such points as Louvois 
being known to treat the prisoner with so much reverence, the 
invariable respect he received from the governor, and the 
solemn refusal of the minister of state, Chamillart, even to his 
son-in-law (years after the death of Mathioli) to divulge this im- 
portant state secret when on his death-bed. How glaringly in- 
consistent with himself therefore is M., to attribute all this re- 
markable effort at concealment of the unimportant charge he 
represents the miserable man to be in other parts of his unsuc- 
cessful paper. How futile to attempt to identify this long mys- 
teriously designated prisoner as " the man in the iron mask" 
with Mathioli ! He calls him an " Italian intriguer," an " ob- 
scure minion," a " person of no great consequence," a " mean 
Italian adventurer." 

To have affected a mystery about Mathioli would have been 
ridiculous, as numbers, both in the north of Italy and France, 
and a great many in Venice, Turin, Milan, &c, knew of his 
detention at the Bastille. But in the penny publications of the 
day, it is so. much the fashion to solve all mysteries, and deny 
the existence of what cannot be reasoned away, that it is easy 
to see how such writers are led into these insuperable difficulties. 
This critic forgets that the account of what he calls " false 
lights " comes accompanied with the sole record we have of the 
transaction ; so that if part is to be thrown overboard, all may 
be abandoned. We had then better openly state — because we 
cannot find out who was the unhappy prisoner so treated — that 
it is all a fiction, and that there was no man in an iron mask. 
In short, gentlemen, painful as it is to demolish the fabric 
constructed with so much vain elaboration, if you will fairly 
reconsider this decision, although delivered on the tripos (Lord 
Dover, the Quarterly Review, and the Saturday Magazine) of 
the priestesses of Apollo at Delphi, you will perhaps see it to be 
worth little more than many of the howlings resulting from the 
mephitical exhalations of that famed subterraneous cavity. 



FOUQUET NOT THE MASK. 223 

On Aug. 13, 1681, just as St. Mars was about to remove 
the man in the iron mask to Exiles, he received directions to 
suspend his journey, in order to receive Catinat (who with 
d'Estrades and Montesquieu had arrested Mathioli) at Pignerol, 
he being sent for the purpose of concluding a new arrangement 
in order to obtain possession of Casal. This arrangement was 
fully concluded, Casal was given up to France ; and, from that 
moment, says Mr. James, the name of Mathioli never once 
occurs, nor is the slightest reference to him whatsoever to be 
found in the whole correspondence of St. Mars and the ministers. 
So far from the reasonable identification of the noted prisoner 
and this " Italian intriguer," whereas all accounts agree as to 
the respect which was invariably shown towards the former un- 
fortunate, the French ministers spoke of Mathioli with sove- 
reign contempt. The governor was repeatedly told that he 
should be severely treated, and be allowed, " except the absolute 
necessaries of life, nothing which may make him pass his life 
agreeably ;" adding elsewhere an order " to treat such a rascal 
as he deserves," &c. These words were penned by Louvois — ■ 
concerning Mathioli, no doubt, but not concerning the mask, 
whom he himself treated with such marked reverence. In 
short, the imprisoned Mantuan secretary was of too little im- 
portance for his life or his death to be recorded. We know not 
the period of his imprisonment ; but the probabilities are that, 
after Casal was given up to the King of France, he was liberated, 
as unworthy the farther notice of the French government. 

6. Fouquet would have been about 90 years of age had he 
been the man ; and could hardly be supposed to have had any 
motive to say he conceived he was about 60 just before his 
death. Moreover, supposing there to be any doubt as to Fou- 
quet's notorious demise in 1680, there can be none of the 
gradual relaxation of the rigour with which he was treated by 
order of Louis. Amidst the wild conjectures of a probable 
motive for so marked a recurrence to severity, the assumption 
that it arose from the discovery of what had always been alleged 
since his papers were made public — his criminal intimacy with 
Madame Scarron, appears one of the most unlikely of con- 
jectures. The notoriety of that lady's character could not have 
been hidden from Louis ; and her friendship with notorious 
prostitutes and public mistresses, who at an early period of her 
spiritual profession formed that religious lady's exclusive co- 
terie, could hardly have left a person so experienced in female 
frailty as was the king in the dark. Nor can we imagine the 
refinement of his singularly chaste mind incapable of sustaining 
the shock of so delicate a discovery ! In short, we must consign 
that supposition to the same grave in which must be interred the 
trashy deductions of the Saturday Magazine ; and, beyond that 



224 THE MYSTERY YET UNEXPLAINED. 

absurdity, there is no presentable case. The ex-minister of 
state doubtless went down to the generation of his fathers at 
the alleged period, 1680 ; although (see p. 103) there is great 
difficulty in determining the time and place of his sepulture. 
The statements connecting that ambitious financier with the 
dark and distressing fate of the man in the iron mask have 
mainly arisen hence. Again, all the particulars we can learn, 
connected with this black page in the history of Louis XIV., 
leave the probabilities greatly in favour of the notorious velvet 
mask with steel springs being adopted as a precautionary ', rather 
than as a punitive, measure. 

These six theories, so improbable that we may almost call 
them impossible, being dismissed; as such a prisoner, and under 
all the mysterious circumstances stated, really did exist, the 
question remains — who could he be ? And, after the candid 
statements of Mr. James that, notwithstanding all his investiga- 
tions, the subject appears to be as dark and mysterious as ever, 
I am sure it would be presumption in any other writer to place 
vague suspicions in place of historical facts. We may rest as- 
sured that no farther discoveries will be made, relative to this 
exciting event, " until the publication of the whole of the letters 
referring to that epoch in the archives of the various ministerial 
offices of France, which would confer the greatest benefits on the 
science of history ; even if we could not trace therein the real 
secret of the man in the mask, a secret that still remains un- 
doubtedly to be discovered." The only suggestion connected 
with which, that I will throw out, is, when these lights shall be 
thrown upon this dark subject, it will be found connected with 
private family matters. 

Events now carry us to England. The bigotry of James II. 
to his religion led him to extravagant exhibitions of zeal. The 
difficulties of his position required a degree of profound ability ; 
with which, and a favourable concurrence of circumstances, it is 
yet to be doubted that he could possibly have succeeded. For 
if history affords remarkable instances of success in such bold 
endeavours, there have been none, happily, in this country, of 
extensive retrogression towards abandoned superstitions. Un- 
less, indeed, we allow the present almost universal tendency to 
uphold, forgone errors, and to revive abandoned claims, on the 
part of the clericals of England, to be an exception. If the 
minds of so large a portion of those members of the universities 
in preparation for our parochial pulpits seem fascinated with 
the Circean cup, it would seem, however, at present to leave 
untouched the mass of the laity. Still,, if the course of events 
would point to a revival • of ancient affinity with Rome, the 
dormant energies of a vast mass of our reflecting people may 
yet be roused; and the strong protestant feeling of our fore- 



VIEWS OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE. 225 

fathers be brought into action, spite of the courtly support of 
by-gone ceremonials and deposed crudities. Merited as would 
be our national fate, for regardlessness of God's word and com- 
mandment, in being once more turned into a land of graven 
images, there is still much of that salt that preserves from pu- 
trefaction. The solution of the important problem may yet be 
that the sound part of the public mind will make a mighty 
heave, and thereby carry off those things that offend. Instead 
of reconstruction of the vice antiques, in the plenitude of priestly 
dogmatism, it may be given to mankind eventually to become 
free from the shackles which at once repress devotion and chain 
down intellect; and a vast re-action be destined to hurl down 
Babylon — never more to rise ! 

In sketching the wretched reign of James, and his strict 
friendship with France, I must endeavour to do so without for- 
getting that it is only quoad Louis XIV. I have to deal with 
our justly deposed monarch. The absorbing nature of the sub- 
ject renders it so natural for an English writer to slide into the 
history of his own country, that I must endeavour to keep to 
the designs of William III., relative to achieving the English 
throne. If indeed the sequel will tolerate that expression, and 
it shall not rather appear that, by common acclaim, he was put 
upon an office that was never prompted by ambition ; but to 
which he was impelled as one to whom the alarmed and de- 
termined protestants looked up both as a protection against 
their own false king, and their powerful and dangerous neigh- 
bour, Louis. 

The reader has seen how the wind-up of the last general 
war left the King of France surrounded with enemies. In the 
natural order of things, the Prince of Orange, who had ex- 
perienced the melancholy effects of Louis' ambition, exerted 
himself to concoct and mature an European league, to circum- 
scribe that dangerous power, and humble that towering am- 
bition. The emperor, the Duke of Lorraine, the Italian princes, 
Sweden, and the Pope, aided by Spain and Savoy, were pre- 
pared for any confederation against France. She had also to 
contend with nearly three quarters of a million of her own chil- 
dren, the protestant outcasts whom the vile persecution of the 
king andpriests had cruelly driven from the bosom of their beloved 
country. These, being planted indiscriminately all over Europe, 
carried with them, and fostered in the breasts of those who re- 
ceived them, implacable hatred against the king. So that Louis 
was righteously beset on all sides with enemies, the King of 
England being his only friend and ally. James procured about 
half a million of money — an immense sum in those days — 
which he applied to put the English fleet in a condition to go 
to sea, though we were in entire peace with Europe. There 

o 5 



226 JAMES II. ADMITTED A JESUIT. 

can be no doubt it was with the connivance of Louis, and that 
the intention was to join the French king in a sudden war upon 
Holland, as the Dutch fleet had been neglected during the 
peace. 

The priesthood were always at work to promote the interests 
of France, which ever led to the embroiling of England with Hol- 
land. As it was thought little likely that the queen of James II. 
would have a son (that alone could exclude the Prince of Orange 
from the succession to the British throne, in right of his wife), 
they were always scheming to get up a war, the effect of which 
they fondly hoped might lead to an act of excluding "William and 
Mary. At this time, we are informed by Burnet, who had re- 
paired to the Hague, at the express invitation of Prince Wil- 
liam, during his abode at Geneva, he had heard of a report that 
a brutal Savoyard, who had fled thither on account of a horrible 
murder he had committed, had laid before the French minister 
a plan to secure the person of the Prince of Orange. He offered 
to go in a small vessel of 20 guns that should lie off a little 
distance at sea. He was to land in a boat with seven persons 
besides himself, and as the prince used often to go in his chariot, 
to ride on the sands near Scheveling, attended by only one com- 
panion and two pages, they were to seize William, and carry 
him on board the ship, and then convey him to France. Louvois 
encouraged this scheme, and advanced money on account to the 
adventurer ; who, being a talking man, divulged the secret, and 
showed Louvois' letter on the subject, which M. Fatio, the cele- 
brated mathematician, procured, and gave it to Burnet. He 
laid the matter before the court at the Hague, and the princess 
became greatly alarmed. Not without considerable difficulty (on 
account of William's strong predestinarian views) could he be 
prevailed upon to use extra precautions, which were imperatively 
required by the States, who were much struck with the clever 
design and its facility of execution. 

In a letter from the Jesuits of Liege to their brethren at 
Friburg, in Switzerland, is a long account of the affairs of Eng- 
land. " That James II. had been received into a communication 
of the merits of their order ; that he expressed great joy at his 
becoming a son of the society ; and professed as much concern 
for their interests as his own. That he wished they could fur- 
nish him with many priests to assist him in the conversion of 
the nation, which he was resolved to be bring about, or die a 
martyr in the endeavour ; and that he would rather suffer death 
for carrying on that, than live ever so long and happy without 
attempting it. He said he must make haste with this work, 
otherwise, if he should die before he compassed it, he would 
leave them worse than when he found them. They added, 
amongst many particulars, that, when one of the them kneeled 



TURN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 227 

down to kiss his hand, James took him up and said, since he was 
a priest, he ought rather to kneel to him, and to kiss his hand. 
And, when one of them lamented that his next heir was a 
heretic, he said, ' God would provide him an heir.' " James 
saw that absolute power was necessary to the accomplishment 
of his favourite scheme ; and, witnessing the despotic sway of 
so many European princes, Louis as much encouraged him to 
make a push for unlimited monarchy as the Jesuits were urging 
him forward to re-establish popery. 

So rash was his conduct that some of the cardinals at Rome 
used to say, in humour, " that they ought to excommunicate him 
as a man who was going to destroy that little of the catholic reli- 
gion which remained in England." Innocent XI. is understood 
to have expressed himself strongly against James's enterprise, 
as grossly impolitic, for he said, " The very air they breathe in 
England is protestant." He constantly refused James's earnest 
requests for a cardinal's hat, for Father Peters, his confessor. 
That forward and ambitious character, in hopes of the coveted 
honour, and of becoming primate of all England, urged on his 
royal master to extremes. Matters were fast proceeding to a 
crisis. James' conduct towards the church of England turned 
that powerful body into determined enemies. The University 
of Oxford now discovered that their voluntary tender of obe- 
dience to James, " without limitations or restrictions," meant so 
long and so far as the king attempted nothing contrary to their 
conception of " religion established by law," which the clergy 
declared " was dearer to them than their lives." And as James 
was driving matters with a high hand to the establishment of 
popery, it was pretty clear that they were not unlikely to lose 
this which was dearer to them than their lives. And although 
one would suppose it matter of indifference to those who had 
been moved in the apostolic spirit to forsake all, to follow Christ, 
yet a considerable attraction existed towards the glebes, tithes, 
parsonages, and other agremens ; hope of quietly possessing 
which had led those holy men to engage to obey " without limi- 
tation or restriction." As this perpetual engagement and uncon- 
ditional submission seemed not likely to work for their peace, a 
new light broke in upon their minds, and they speedily " turned 
round upon themselves," as Castlereagh used to call it. 

Concocting a plan to get rid of the gloomy tyrant, they now 
joined the heads of the nation in a secret confederacy. A depu- 
tation to the Prince of Orange was sent with such privacy as to 
baffle the court ; although Burnet's residence at the Hague was 
notorious, and that he was engaged in forwarding the good work, 
and fostering constitutional sentiments in the breasts of William 
and Mary. James had a check for £3,000 drawn, ready to be 
signed, as the Duke of Ormond declared he saw it at the secre- 



228 ALLEGED DECEPTION OF JAMES'S QUEEN. 

tary's office, to be paid to a person who should seize or destroy 
the bishop ! It is too well known in England, to permit here 
recapitulating the circumstances, that the vile attempt to punish 
the seven bishops for declining to recognise the dispensing 
power of the king, in its merited failure, gave the coup de grace 
to the fate of James. Amidst all these disorders in England, 
Admiral Russel went over to the Hague to prepare matters with 
that court. 

Just at this time it was discovered, to the surprise of every- 
body, that James's queen was pregnant. It was generally be- 
lieved to be altogether a popish plot — but, in due course, she 
appears to have been delivered of a son. William was thus 
thrown out of succession, by his wife, to the British throne ; and, 
strengthening the hopes and hands of the papists, this created 
the greatest ferment in England. If Burnet's account be true, 
there was a long tissue of deception practised ; and it must be 
confessed that many circumstances conspired to corroborate 
these tales, that appear to have been much credited at the time. 
But, as it is a wise child that can tell his own father, the truth 
can never be elicited by the fact that James-Francis- Edward, 
this disputed boy, afterwards became the pretender, and always 
passed for the son of James and his consort. The allegation 
is that the queen miscarried three months before the pretended 
birth of the Prince of Wales, but that it was kept a great secret. 
She had still to maintain appearances; and that, at the right 
time, she should feign parturition — a child being provided. 
The very strong motive of the papists needs little to explain, 
nor can there be a doubt of their willingness to lend themselves 
to any likely plan for the establishment of their religion. On the 
other hand, the difficulties were great of perpetrating such a 
bare-faced deception, in the case of royalty, which must pay the 
penalty of losing that peaceful repose and decent seclusion, in 
the hour of nature's sorrow, allotted to all females of inferior 
rank. The very purpose being to prevent the affiliation of spu- 
rious offspring — a queen submits to a public delivery — -one can 
but believe this negatives the strong assertions of unfair play. 
However, the curious may derive a fund of entertainment from 
consulting Burnet, who goes into a class of minutiae concerning 
warming-pans, clothes, &c, that would be a little too free for 
modern fastidiousness. The professional kind of knowledge 
our worthy ecclesiastic seems to have possessed, to his well- 
merited bishopric, might have added, in the new reign, to bring 
about the advent of which he had so long and so honestly la- 
boured, the title and office of groom of the close-stool. 

The conduct of the whole design of displacing James was 
entrusted mainly to Sidney, the Brother of Algernon Sidney. 
Nine years before, he had been envoy to Holland, and had en- 



CONFUSION IN ENGLAND. 229 

joyed a greater intimacy with the prince than any other of his 
countrymen had : suspicion having been excited, he was appre- 
hensive, and spent a year in Italy. Matters were now fast 
ripening, and Sidney cautiously sounded the Lords Halifax, 
Danby, Nottingham, Devonshire, and Churchill, with many 
other leading characters, bishops, army officers, &c. But, as 
the bespeaking of so many stands of arms, although covered by 
a pretence of their being for the King of Sweden ; and other 
necessary arrangements, albeit conducted with surprising se- 
crecy, could not delude the active emissaries of Louis; the 
alarm being taken by the court of France, soon was commu- 
nicated to England. James was not without fears ; he ordered 
14 more ships to be put to sea, and many fire ships. But the 
seamen were universally sulky, the complements of the ships 
could not be procured without great difficulty. There was a 
marked spirit of discontent in the army ; and James's attempt 
to infuse so large a portion of Irish catholics into the Duke of 
Berwick's regiment, tried as an experiment upon the whole 
body of the troops, turned out a failure. The lieutenant-colonel 
and five of the captains refused to receive them ; these officers 
were put under arrest, taken before a court-martial, broken, 
with reproach, and declared incapable of serving the king any 
more. But all the officers of the army had shown such sym- 
pathy as that no farther attempts were made. 

Louis XIV. offered his " good brother" any forces he might 
require. All the English papistical priests were for receiving 
15,000 at Portsmouth, and so were most of the popish lords. 
Sunderland was strong in opposing it — saying, that less than 
40,000 would be of no use ; and then it might prove that, after 
having been James's servants, they would turn out his masters, 
and the king become a mere viceroy of France. This caused 
a suspension, but not a total abandonment, of the proposal. 
Barillon, the French ambassador at our court, believing matters 
would proceed to a civil war, trusted that the balance might 
then be effectually turned by assistance from France. There- 
fore he encouraged his master to go on with his designs that 
winter, in the hope that spring would be time enough for help- 
ing James. This advice was destructive of the king of England, 
and fatal to himself; for, on his return to France, Louis being 
angry with him, the ambassador so took it to heart as to fret into 
an illness which proved mortal. Barillon's powers were quite 
mistaken by both courts : Voltaire says he was only competent 
to advise and assist the two kings about their mistresses. The 
French ambassador at the Hague informed the States that his 
master understood the vast preparations he heard of were de- 
signed against England, and* that, being in strict alliance with 



230 MANIFESTO OF LOUIS XIV. 

that country, he should consider any thing the Dutch might do 
as an invasion of his own crown. 

The world were at this time surprised with a manifesto, in 
the name of the King of France, against the emperor. As it 
was the prelude to that long war which only terminated with 
the peace of Ryswick, it may be proper here to present my 
reader with an abstract of it. The emperor's evil designs 
against France were set forth ; it complained of the Elector Pa- 
latine's injustice to the Duchess of Orleans, in not giving her the 
succession that fell to her by her brother's death ; and charged 
him with the disturbances in Cologne, with a view of securing 
that for one of his own sons. On which and other accounts, 
the King of France, seeing that his enemies could not enter 
France by any other way but that of Philipsburg, determined 
to possess himself of it, and then to demolish it. He resolved 
also to take Kaisarslauter from the Palatine, and to keep it till 
the Duchess of Orleans had justice done her in her pretensions. 
And, with two or three other minor points, he declared he would 
only wait till January, for the conditions he now offered to be 
accepted or rejected. This manifesto was followed by another 
against the pope, which the Cardinal d'Estrees presented to his 
holiness. Herein Louis complained of the partiality he had 
shown against France, in favour of Austria. After other rea- 
sons, he wound up by separating the character of the most holy 
father from that of a temporal prince ; and therefore he should 
seize on Avignon and on Castro, until the pope should satisfy 
the pretensions of the Duke of Parma. 

Louis affected to consider the pope's conduct in not joining 
him heartily in the extirpation of heresy, as giving great scandal 
both to the old Roman Catholics and to the new converts. The 
King of France in some measure attributed the boldness of the 
Prince of Orange in venturing to invade the King of England 
with the view of destroying the Roman Catholic religion to this, 
which he had also affirmed had led to the spreading of the re- 
port that the birth of the Prince of Wales was an imposture. 
Marshal Schomberg, a German by birth, being a protestant, 
had asked leave, at the revocation of the edict of Nantes, to 
return to his own country. This had been refused him, and 
he was sent to Portugal. Such is the spirit of popery that, 
though he had been the instrument of achieving the indepen- 
dence of that slip of a country, yet as he was known to disap- 
prove of the extreme measures of his wretched government, the 
inquisition set upon him as a "heretic," and forced Louis to 
recal him. He went to England, whence he departed for Hoi 
land, and there he formed an intimacy with William. Proceed- 
ing to Berlin, he was placed at the head of the Prussian army, 



DECLARATION OF WILLIAM III. 231 

and now went to Cleves, to command the troops sent from the 
empire for the defence of Cologne. By these means, a stop 
was put to any progress the French could make : thus the States 
were safe for the winter, which gave time for the consolidating 
of the plans William was arranging against England. 

A fleet of about 50 sail of Dutch ships was now put to sea, 
most of them third or fourth rates, commanded by Dutch offi- 
cers; the English admiral, Herbert, was commander-in-chief. 
The Dutch resisted this, considering a stranger ought not to 
be placed at the head of their fleet; but Admiral Herbert 
would take nothing less, and it was conjectured, nothing was so 
likely to cause the English fleet to join the enterprise. About 
500 transports were secured for conveying over 4,000 dragoons 
and their horses, and there were 3,000 more horses for artillery 
and baggage, also arms for an addition of 20,000 more to their 
army. It now became necessary to have a public document, 
declaratory of the prince's intentions, drawn up ; and such a 
paper was sent from England for the consideration of the States. 
After long attention, weighing well the civil law, and the law of 
nations, they made great alterations, and took it to Burnet, to 
be by that divine put into good English. This declaration re- 
capitulated the grievances of the English, relative to common 
and civil law, religion, &c. Upon multifarious grounds, Wil- 
liam, seeing it the only hope for civil and religious liberty, as 
the ruin of the protestant religion, and the constitution of Eng- 
land was imminent, at the earnest invitation of all ranks, re- 
solved, both on the princess's account, and his own, to go over 
to England. He proposed to seek for a redress of these grow- 
ing evils, in a parliament to be freely chosen, with which to 
concur in all that might tend to the peace and happiness of the 
nation. Dissenters were promised protection ; the church, pre- 
servation; the question of the queen's delivery to be examined 
by a parliament, and its decision should be binding. 

This celebrated manifesto was signed and sealed on the 10th 
of October, 1688; and accompanying this were letters inviting 
soldiers, seamen, and others, to come and join the enterprise. 
A paper was drawn up by Burnet, justifying this departure from 
the line of obedience, anticipating and answering the objections 
which might be made ; many thousands were printed, and dis- 
tributed on the English coast. The good bishop accompanied 
William to England as his chaplain. Not comprehending the 
force of the claims of that tenacious and comely old dame, the 
church of England, the prince had nearly made a sad hole in 
his manners by signing at the Hague another document drawn 
up by the canny Scots there resident. By implication, in this 
paper William declared what steams up in the nostrils of the or- 
thodox church of England divines as the decoction of verjuice — 



232 SQUABBLES OF RIVAL CHURCHES. 

even presbyterianism — cold, calculating, and shifty as it is — to 
be the only booth in the fair. Even before they all started on 
their redoubtable expedition, a very awkward fracas broke out 
between these venerable sister churches, and Burnet was called 
in to adjust the dispute. This he accomplished by altering the 
prince's favourable views of the claims of the sharp-visaged 
vestal of the north, who was therefore compelled to draw in the 
horns of her assurance. After existing in slow and icy atrophy 
for 150 years longer, it gladdens many minds to witness the 
approaching agonies of death, the. indication of which, it is 
hoped, the rattles now heard in her throat may prove ! 

The claims and consistency of popery are at least intelligible. 
The unbending adherence to forms and ceremonies, and up- 
holding of strong toryism — mixed up with so much vital religion 
and open-handed charity, good breeding and almost universal 
respectability of the Anglican .priesthood, presents much that 
may be admired, although alloyed by courtly alliance with this 
world. But for the meagre, cold, and grasping kirk of the bleak 
north, that lays claim to freedom, while one section of her 
" priesthood " are howling at intrusive patronage, and biting and 
devouring the other division, who are content to jog along the 
dark and downward Erastian road — what shall be said for this 
extraordinary edifice ? Experience having proved this divided 
kirk to be a failure, it now seems that the rivals will fight on 
till, like the two Kilkenny cats in the saw-pit, at last nothing will 
be found but the tail of one of them. And then may real and 
undefiled religion cover that land once so renowned for a bold 
struggle after the power, and not the lifeless form, of godliness ! 

William had too much knowledge of human nature to trust 
to the assurances that were held out to him of James's army 
coming over to the invaders ; neither did he feel more reliance 
on the expectation of the country people joining him. He 
therefore prudently told Sidney and the other advisers of the 
enterprise that he would not act without adequate strength, as 
failure would be the ruin of both England and Holland. Some 
proposed that Marshal Schomberg should command a portion 
of the forces, and land in the west, while William, with another, 
should land in the north. The prince readily consented that 
Schomberg should accompany the expedition, 'but declined se- 
parating the army. Herbert and the other seamen opposed 
landing in the north, on account of the dangers of the coast for 
a fleet in an east wind : he was therefore ordered to stand over 
to the Downs, to watch the English fleet, to see whether or not 
they would come over. Contrary winds prevailed above a fort- 
night, which damped the courage of the invaders. However, 
in the beginning of October, the troops were put on board in 
the Zuyder sea, and got out of the Texel in ten days, and within 



WILLIAM TAKES LEAVE OF HOLLAND. 233 

three days the 500 transports were got together. Burnet tells 
us he waited on the princess a few days before they all left the 
Hague : he found her much depressed in spirit, she was very 
solemn and serious, and prayed God earnestly to bless and to 
direct the leaders. On the 16th, the wind veered to the east; 
so orders were sent in all haste to prepare. 

That morning the prince went into the assembly of the 
States- general, to take leave of them. He assured them he was 
extremely sensible of the kindness they had always shown him; 
he took God to witness he had served them faithfully ; and ever 
had the good of his country before his eyes. He now went 
to England with no other intentions than those stated in the 
declaration ; committing himself to the providence of God, not 
knowing what might become of him, He left to them the care 
of the country, and recommended the princess to them in the 
most particular manner, even with a tone of feeling which sel- 
dom broke through his phlegmatic manner. At the conclusion, 
almost all the members were greatly affected : many attempting 
to speak — all were melted into tears — and they could only ex- 
press themselves in abrupt, broken, and tender speeches. In 
short, William's was almost the only dry eye : but even this 
moving scene could not disturb his cold nature. After various 
ill-timed delays, during which these tardy adventurers had con- 
sumed much of their provisions, and lost three days of fair 
wind, on the 19th, the prince went on board ; and the whole fleet 
sailed out that night. But the next day the wind veered to the 
north, and settled in the north-west. At night a great storm 
arose ; they worked^ against it all that night and the next day, 
but it was in vain to struggle any longer, and at length the 
signal was given to retrace their steps. Several of the ships 
were missing when they assembled together again, but by de- 
grees they all came in, though some were sadly shattered by 
the storm. The religionists viewed this check according to 
their faith : some blessing a merciful God who had preserved 
all this vast fleet in a terrible storm, and, by this his gracious 
care, they took courage to trust Him for the future. Others 
considered it a token of the Lord's hand being shown against 
the enterprise. During the prevalence of the storm, there was 
great anxiety at the Hague, and the princess caused public 
prayers to be offered four times a day for their preservation 
from so great a danger. 

In England, the court saw that it was vain longer to dissem- 
ble. Great consultations were therefore held. The Earl of Mel- 
fort and the leading papists proposed seizing on all suspected 
persons, and sending them to Portsmouth. This was stoutly 
opposed by the Earl of Sunderland, as certain to drive such to 
favour the prince : it would be much wiser, he thought, for the 



234 CONFUSION IN ENGLAND. 

king to do popular things, and thus try to allay the popular fer- 
mentation. This judicious counsel did not suit ; and Sunderland 
was turned out of all his employments, Lord Preston being ap- 
pointed secretary of state. The English fleet was sent out in 
great strength, and if they had met the Dutch fleet, who had to 
cover their transports, had an attack been made, the English 
would doubtless have been victors. The troops were fetched up 
from Scotland, that kingdom being left in the hands of the 
militia; several regiments were likewise brought from Ireland, 
so that the king's army was about 30,000 strong. James sent 
for the bishops, and to them depicted the injustice of this un- 
natural invasion, assuring them of his affection for the church 
of England. He protested he never meant to carry matters far- 
ther than equal liberty of conscience ; desiring they would de- 
\ v clare their abhorrence of this threatened invasion, and give him 
their advice. They suggested the summoning of a parliament, 
that the ecclesiastical commission should be given up, the pro- 
ceedings against the Bishop of London and Magdelen College 
might be reversed, and the lav/ restored to its ancient channel — 
declining to express their abhorrence of the expected descent. 
The straightforward conduct of these divines greatly de- 
lighted the people. The king ordered them to prepare a service 
for the occasion, which they obeyed so judiciously that either 
party could use the form — as it fitted like a shirt ! The church 
soon snuffed the wind politic, and expressed their grief to see the 
wind natural so cross ; and, wishing it to blow from the east, the 
clergy named that " the protestant wind." In short, all was con- 
fusion here — now nothing could be done enough to please the 
people : but it was too late — the court was distrusted. The in- 
terests of the clergy pointed to the new advent; the time was 
come to " cast away the works of darkness ;" and the " ministers 
and stewards of the mysteries made ready and prepared the way" 
of the Prince of Orange, '-' by turning the hearts of the disobe- 
dient" — that, on his arrival, they " might be found an accepta- 
ble people in his sight" who was coming to " reign over them." 
After all the concessions James now made (and a portion might, 
at an earlier period, with a kindlier spirit, have quieted a people 
like the English, little fond of change, and ever ready to kiss 
the rod) , that was experienced by James, the truth of which it 
has fallen to the lot of many others to find out, that 

" He that will not, when he may, 
When he will, he shall have nay." 

This was the state of matters in England, while the fleet of 
Holland lay off Helvoet-sluys, till November 1. The weather 
was most unpropitious ; the men of war were still riding at sea, 
and though boats were sent out to them, they could not reach 



WILLIAM LANDS AT TORBAY. 235 

them. After dreadful storms with great danger to the shipping, 
at last " the protestant wind" came, and even then it took two 
days to get this large fleet out so that they should move in order, 
They tried to sail northward, but the weather prevented, and the 
signal being given to steer westward, they^were thereby spared 
meeting the English fleet, which could not leave the river by 
reason of the east wind, so that the Dutch had the sea open to 
them, with a fair wind and safe navigation. On November 3, 
they passed between Dover and Calais, and before night came in 
sight of the Isle of Wight. The 4th being the day on which 
the prince was both born and married, he fancied, if he could 
land on that day, it would look auspicious to the army. But 
the English who accompanied him considered that the day fol- 
lowing being gunpowder-treason day, to land then would have a 
better effect on the minds of the English nation, and so were 
well pleased that it turned out impossible for him to land sooner. 
Torbay was thought the best place for so large a fleet to lie in, 
and it was resolved to land the army where it could be most 
readily accomplished near that spot. It being reckoned that, at 
such a distance from London, they could provide themselves 
with horses, and put every thing in order before the king could 
march his army towards thern, and that the prince's army should 
remain some time at Exeter to refresh themselves. 

Burnet tells us he was in the ship with the prince's " other 
domestics," — a singular allocation for a bishop. This vessel 
went in the van of the whole fleet. At noon, Admiral Russell 
went on board, with the best of the English pilots they had 
provided. This pilot, during the night, carried them beyond 
Torbay and Dartmouth ; so that from the state of the wind, it 
seemed necessary to sail on to Plymouth, where the Earl of 
Bath, who was governor, had sent by Russell a promise to join 
the Prince of Orange. Admiral Russell was greatly disturbed 
when he discovered the pilot's mistake, and begged Burnet to 
fall to prayers — for all was lost. After which, as he was ordering 
a boat to be lowered, that he might go to the prince, on a 
sudden, to the wonder of all, the weather changed, and a soft 
and happy gale of wind carried the whole fleet into Torbay 
within four hours. Immediately, as many landed as conveni- 
ently could; and as soon as the prince and Marshal Schomberg 
got to shore, they were furnished with such horses as the village 
of Broxholme could afford. Riding up to view the grounds, 
they found them as convenient as could be for the foot at that 
time of year. As soon as Burnet landed, he hastened to the 
prince, who took him heartily by the hand, and asked him if 
he did not now believe in predestination ? Burnet replied, that 
he would never forget that providence of God which had ap- 
peared so signally on this occasion. William was elated in his 



236 JAMES GOES TO MEET WILLIAM. 

spirits, but soon returned to his wonted gravity. He now sent 
for all the neighbouring fishermen, to ask which was the proper 
place for landing his horse. It was thought this would prove a 
tedious business ; but they showed him a spot where the ships 
could be brought very near the land, so that the horses had not 
above twenty yards to swim. 

Favoured by a dead calm, they landed all the horses within 
three hours, with enough baggage to last till they got to Exeter. 
The artillery and heavy baggage were to go to Topsham (close 
to Exeter) by sea : so that all which was immediately necessary 
was landed; and by the next day at noon they were in full 
march, having gone four miles that night. The king's fleet 
had got out, and were in full sail after the Dutch fleet, wlten 
the wind suddenly shifted, and a great storm blew from the 
west. This did not damage the fleet of the invaders, as that was 
covered by the land ; but the king's fleet were driven back, and 
so shattered as to be compelled to put back into Portsmouth, 
being no more fit for service that year. This they had reason 
to view as a special providence, for there is no doubt the sailors 
would have fought heartily for James. Thus the winds and the 
waves fell, just to suit the protestant cause, and to call forth 
grateful ascriptions of praise to Him whom they obey. William 
hasted to Exeter, where he stayed ten days to refresh his troops, 
and to give opportunity for the country gentlemen to show the 
course they meant to pursue. The clergy and magistrates at 
Exeter were very backward ; the bishop and the dean ran away. 
The doctrines of passive obedience had so entangled them that 
they were ashamed of so " quick a turn ; " it was hard they should 
be hurried — it did not look pleasant. Their houses were pro- 
tected, and William ordered every respect to be shown those 
believers in providence who waited to see which side would be 
the conqueror, and on that to range themselves. The army of 
the prince behaved very well, offering no violence, and scrupu- 
lously paying for every thing. A week elapsed before any of 
the neighbouring country gentlemen came about the prince, 
but every day persons of condition arrived from other parts : 
the first were Lord Colchester, Lord Wharton, Lord Russell's 
brother, and the Earl of Abington. 

James went to Salisbury, and sent on his troops 20 miles 
farther. Three regiments of these, induced by their officers, 
Lord Cornbury and Colonel Langston, turned over to William. 
James was so excited that he bled greatly at the nose every 
day; and it was found necessary to bleed him by the lancet 
four times that week. He paid many spies largely, and sent 
them into the invader's camp, but none ever returned to him ; 
so that he could get no information but by common rumour, 
which magnified William's strength and nearness* and James's 



DISTRESS OF JAMES II. 237 

spirits sunk extremely. He heard that London was very un- 
quiet; and now news was brought that the Earls of Devonshire 
and Danby, and Lord Lumley, were drawing forces together, and 
that the city of York and the town of Newcastle had declared 
for the prince ; and Lord Delamere had also raised a regiment 
in Cheshire. The body of the nation now so evidently declared 
against James that he saw his only dependence was the army, 
and even these he mistrusted. The Duke of Grafton, his ne- 
phew, and Lord Churchill, now deserted him, and joined Wil- 
liam within twenty miles of Exeter. The Duke of Ormond, the 
Duke of Queensbury's eldest son, and Prince George, joined 
Wiiliam at Sherbourne; and when the Princess Anne, his wife, 
who was in London, heard of it, she told Lady Churchill she 
would jump out of the window ! But, being in a degree^paci- 
fied, she fled down a back stair-case with Lady Churchill, in 
such haste that they carried nothing with them, to the Bfshop 
of London, who was lying perdue at? a house in Suffolk Street. 
He took the two ladies to the Earl of Dorset's, whose countess 
furnished them with every necessary. The earl then took them 
to Northampton, where the country gentlemen soon formed a 
guard for their future queen. 

It is said that when J%mes first heard of her flight, he burst 
into tears, and emphatically exclaimed, " God help me ! my 
own children have forsaken me." Just now the famous ballad, 
treating the Irish papists in a very ridiculous manner, was 
made ; the Irish words of it were " Lero lero lilibulero ;" it pro- 
duced an incredible impression on the army. The curious may 
find it, and the tune to which it was set, in Sterne's works. 
Burnet says that, perhaps " never had so slight a thing so great 
an effect." The nobility, gentry, and clergy, now rapidly gave 
in their adhesion to the new order of things. James, seeing the 
game was becoming hopeless, precipitately returned to London. 
And, as all behind William was safe, Plymouth having declared 
for him, and all Dorsetshire having in a body joined him, he 
resolved also to push on for London, which was in the greatest 
agitation. James knew not whom to trust : the apprentices of 
the city, and other sons of Belial, incited by a false, but highly 
inciting and clever, declaration, purporting to be from William, 
fell upon the Roman. Catholic chapels, and otherwise committed 
violence. By the advice of the privy counsellors and peers in 
London, humilitating as was the act, James reluctantly con- 
sented to send the Lords of Halifax, Nottingham, and Godol- 
phin, to the prince, to know what he demanded. William fixed 
to receive them at Hungerford. A day was taken to consider 
what answer to give : at last the peers and gentlemen with the 
Prince of Orange delivered to the three deputies of James an 
answer to this 'purport : 



238 JAMES AT FEVERSHAM. 

A parliament to be immediately called ; none to continue in 
any employment who had not taken the tests ; the Tower to be 
placed in the keeping of the citizens ; the fleet, and all strong 
places to be put in the hands of the protestants ; a portion of 
the revenue to be assigned to pay the expenses of the invasion. 
During the sitting of parliament the armies on both sides should 
not approach London nearer than 20 miles, the prince to be 
allowed to come to town, and have the same number of guards 
as the king had about his person. The deputation from James 
were satisfied with this ; and, sending it up by express, they them- 
selves went back the next day to London. However, at the 
instigation of the priests, who told the queen, she, as well as 
themselves, would be impeached, the queen prevailed upon the 
king to allow her to fly to France. The child, the midwife, and 
all who were assisting at the birth, accompanied her, and they 
were all so disposed of that they never more could be traced. 
She made the king promise to follow a day or two after ; and 
herself proceeded to Portsmouth, whence she got over in a 
man-of-war to France. 

The king stayed long enough to receive the prince's answer, 
and remarked, on reading it, that he had not expected such 
good terms. He procured the great seal from the chancellor, 
and about 3 o'clock in the morning of 10th December, 1688, he 
went away in disguise with Sir Edward Hales, for whose servant 
he passed. They threw the great seal into the river, which, 
Burnet says, was found some months afterwards near Fox Hall, 
by a fisherman. They embarked on board a miserable fishing- 
boat, people being surprised that he did not go in a frigate, 
rather than in so ignominious a manner. Thus terminated the 
reign of a great king, who had a good army and a strong fleet — 
which he had ordered to be disbanded. It was thought, with the 
idea that almost endless confusion and mischief would result 
from letting this large body loose, and discontented, for want 
of their pay. His boat had not proceeded far when some 
fishermen of Feversham, who were watching for waifs and strays, 
came up ; and, knowing Sir Edward Hales, took both him and 
the king, and conveyed them to Feversham. The king told 
them who he was ; and it being bruited about, a vast crowd 
soon assembled to see this instance of the mutability of human 
affairs. To the praise of the people, it should be mentioned 
that he was treated with respect, not insult. 

Upon its being told William that they had secured the person 
of the king, that prince sent Zuylestein immediately to him to 
assure him of his safety, and that he was at full liberty to go 
whithersoever he pleased. There now appeared a considerable 
re-action of feeling — the privy council met: some moved that 
the king be sent for — others said the coaches and guards were 



WILLIAM GENERALLY CONGRATULATED. 239 

at his own disposal. Finally it was left to the Earl of Fevershara 
to do what he thought best ; and he went for the king with his 
coaches and guards. On his return, James was welcomed with 
expressions of joy by great numbers — such is the stability of the 
vox populi: he went to Whitehall, and a large court assembled 
about him. At first he began to talk very big, but a little sober 
reflection convinced him that his fortunes were irretrievable ; 
and he sent to desire William to come to him at St. James's. 
William's counsellors objected to this course, and decided to 
stand upon the point of the king's moral abdication by flying. 
It was seriously contemplated to make James a prisoner — even 
rougher measures were hinted at, but William always said that, 
having conducted this expedition upon fair and open grounds, 
now that he had the person of the king in his power, he despis- 
ed taking advantage thereof. No violence should be offered to 
him — he should have a guard to attend upon him for protection, 
but not for restraint. 

The king, having caused the " moving wardrobe" to be sent 
before him, was attended by the Count of Solms to Rochester, at 
his own request. The troops commanded by the count, as well 
as himself, were Roman Catholics ; and when they were asked 
how they could serve in an expedition intended to destroy their 
own religion, one of them answered, " his soul was God's, but 
his sword was the Prince of Orange's." This so delighted James 
that he repeated it to all who came about him. On the day 
William went to St. James's it was very rainy, and yet numbers 
went to see him; but, disliking anything which looked like a 
show, he disappointed them, and the Londoners were not best 
pleased. The public bodies now waited upon William ; and 
amongst them old Sergeant Maynard, the celebrated lawyer, 
went up with his fraternity; he was nearly ninety years old. The 
prince took great notice of him, and said he must have outlived 
all the men of law of his time. Maynard answered, " he should 
have outlived the law itself if his highness had not come over.'' 
(Although between a parenthesis, I may here be allowed to re- 
cord, for the amusement of my " gentle reader," an anecdote of 
this venerable. He was engaged on a trial of importance, and 
the opposing counsel corrected him by saying he must have/or- 
gotten such a point of law — the old sergeant replied, " Alas ! 
Sir, I have forgotten more law than you ever knew!") 

Compliments over, it had to be settled what farther steps 
should be taken. After much discussion, it was decided to call 
together all the peers, and the members of the three last parlia- 
ments, with some of the principal citizens of London. William 
asked their advice : it was unanimously agreed to request him to 
take the reins of government into his hands for the present: and 
letters-missive were sent round the nation to call together a par- 



240 INTRACTABILITY OF WILLIAM. 

liament. Meanwhile the king remained at Rochester: many 
pressed him to stay and see how matters would turn out — he 
hesitated, but at last determined to obey the wishes of the 
queen, strongly expressed in a letter reminding him of his pro- 
mise to join her. James had a vessel prepared, and departed 
from Rochester very secretly on the last day of 1688, and safely 
reached France. > On his table he left an apple of discord in the 
shape of a paper addressed to Lord Middleton, reproaching the 
nation for forsaking him, declaring he was going to seek foreign 
aid to restore him to his throne, that should be based on esta- 
blished religion, law, liberty, &c. 

My purpose forbids a detailed account of the affairs of Ire- 
land just then, which were most troublous ; nor can I go into 
the multifarious debates relative to the settlement of the crown, 
and the demeanour of Prince William. It was thought very 
mysterious, for, throughout these warm debates, he remained 
verdue at St. James's, difficult of access, hearing all that was 
said to him, and seldom replying. He neither affected popu- 
larity, nor courted any party ; and, as several weeks were de- 
voted to the adjustment of the difficulties, and nobody could 
ascertain his wishes, he at length sent for the Lords Danby, 
Halifax, and Shrewsbury, and some others, to explain himself. 
He said he had hitherto been silent, because he would not do 
or say any thing which might seem to control any person : but, 
as some were for putting the government in the hands of a 
regent, he would say nothing against it — only he thought it 
necessary to tell them he would not be the regent. Others 
were for placing the princess on the throne, and allowing him 
to reign by her courtesy. Now, no man could esteem a woman 
more than he did the princess, but he was so constituted that 
he could not think of holding any thing by apron-strings (these 
were his own words) ; that he would, in short, have nothing to 
do with the government unless it was put in his person, and 
that for his life. If they objected to this, he should be well 
satisfied to go back to Holland, and meddle no more in their 
affairs; assuring them that a crown had very few charms for 
him, and he could do very well without it. He proposed that 
the Princess Anne should succeed her sister and himself; and, 
should he marry again, and have issue, Anne and her children 
should take precedence. Burnet now thought the time was 
come to make known that with which the princess had entrust- 
ed him at the Hague, — that she was disposed to abandon all 
personal claims, and to see the power vested in her husband. 

At last, in a very full house of lords, after the various other 
propositions were disposed of, by a very small majority, they 
agreed with the commons in voting the abdication and the 
vacancy of the throne. And then, with great difficulty, a final 



QUEEN MARY REPROACHED. 241 

vote was passed, by which the Prince and Princess of Orange 
were desired to accept of the crown, and declared king and 
queen. Every thing being prepared, the princess safely arrived, 
and immediately justified Burnet for the course he had taken. 
Her deportment gave offence to the sober-minded people, as 
her light-heartedness seemed so little to agree with the sober 
gravity which the occasion of taking possession of the palace, 
so lately vacated by her father, seemed to call for. Burnet was 
distressed, and took the liberty of telling her it was noticed that 
her parent's overthrow, and the sad revolution, made but "slight 
impression upon her. She took the freedom well, assuring him 
she keenly felt the painfulness of her position, but by letters 
and otherwise, she had so often been importuned to " put on a 
cheerfulness," that she had gone too far, she feared, in acting a 
part not natural to her. 

Lord Clarendon also records that he remonstrated with her 
on the same subject, and that people noticed when the news of 
the king being gone was communicated to her she called for 
cards, and was as merry as usual. To this she replied, they 
did her wrong to make such reflections upon her actions — it 
was true she called for cards, because, being in the habit of 
playing, she never loved to do any thing which looked like an 
affected restraint. Lord Clarendon answered, that he was sorry 
her royal highness should think showing trouble for her father's 
misfortune should be interpreted by any as an affected con- 
straint; and that he feared her behaviour would injure her 
even in the estimation of her father's enemies. Evelyn also 
says, " Queen Mary came into Whitehall, laughing and jolly 
as to a wedding, so as to seem quite transported. She rose 
early the next morning, and in her undress, as it was reported, 
before her women were up, went about from room to room to 
see the convenience of the house. She lay in the same apart- 
ment where the queen lay, &c. ; which carriage was censured by 
many. She seems to be of a good nature, and that she takes 
nothing to heart; whilst the prince has a thoughtful counte- 
nance, is wonderful serious and silent, and seems to treat all 
persons alike gravely, and to be very intent on affairs." The 
Duchess of Marlborough confirms these statements; she says 
Mary "wanted bowels;" and animadverts upon her behaviour 
when she first arrived at Whitehall, as being "very strange 
and unbecoming." This was on the 12th Feb., 1689: on the 
13th the two houses waited upon them to offer the crown; 
which may be called the commencement of a reign of what the 
good old bishop Burnet (to whom I am indebted for the main 
particulars connected with the finale of James's reign, and the 
coming over of his successor,) quaintly calls "a double bot- 
tomed monarchy." 



242 JAMES TOUCHES FOR THE EVIL. 

This was the true aera of English liberty (says Voltaire) : 
the nation, represented by its parliament, now fixed the long- 
contested bounds between the prerogative of the crown and 
the rights of the people. After acknowledging the Prince of 
Orange as William III., lawful King of England, they account- 
ed him the deliverer of the nation : but in France he was only 
styled Prince of Orange, and represented as the usurper of his 
father-in-law's dominions. 

James was now a fugitive, and with his queen, the daughter 
of the Duke of Modena, and the (suppositious) Prince of Wales, 
yet an infant, had implored the protection of Louis XIV. This 
was liberally promised ; Louis assuring him that, as they had 
both the same interests, he would never cease the war till he had 
re-seated him on his throne. The sum of 600,000 livres was 
allotted for the expense of his household, besides a number of 
valuable presents being made to him. The queen having pre- 
ceded James in arriving at Paris, the King of France went to 
meet her at Chaton ; and, on the occasion, with his usual court- 
liness, said: " The office I perform at present, Madam, is a 
sorrowful one ; but I hope soon to do you others more impor- 
tant and agreeable." He conducted her to the castle of St. 
Germains, where she was entertained with as much grandeur 
as if she had been queen of France : she had many grand and 
suitable presents made to her, and found on her toilet a purse 
of 10,000 louis-d'ors. Great preparations were made to effect 
James's re-establishment : amidst all, he cut but a sorry figure, 
having no respect either at court or in the city. He used to 
drive to the Jesuits' house in the rue St, Antoine ; and by his 
brotherhood with them appeared in so contemptible a light to 
the courtiers that it formed their amusement to write songs 
upon him. In short, he became the object of general ridi- 
cule in France. Louvois' brother, the archbishop of Rheims, 
said aloud, in his drawing-room at St. Germains, " There's a 
simpleton, who has thrown away three kingdoms for a mass !" 
From Rome, says Voltaire, he received nothing but indulgen- 
ces and pasquils. His religion, in short, was of so little service 
to him that when the Prince of Orange, although head of the 
Calvinists, set sail on his expedition for England, the Spanish 
ambassador at the Hague ordered mass to be said for his 
success ! 

Amidst the distresses of this dethroned bigot, and the many 
princely services rendered to him by Louis XIV., it was remark- 
able to see James touching for the king's evil; and much more 
remarkable that any dupes could be found foolish enough to be 
touched, The first practical measure was to fit out an expedi- 
tion to Ireland, where a formidable body of papists yet remained 
attached to his interests. At p. 194, I mentioned the visit the 



HIS ATTEMPTS IN IRELAND. 243 

Duke of Lauzun made to England ; James had obtained a pro- 
mise from Louis that, if he should require French troops, that 
foolish creature should command them. Louvois, either antici- 
pating the miserable figure Lauzun would cut, or wishing his 
own son, Souvray, to be appointed to command the expedition, 
sent to James to beg he would solicit Louis to give the prefer- 
ence to Souvray. James thought he could not in honour go 
from his word, and declined to gratify Louvois ; the latter con- 
sequently studied in every way to mortify James, and thwarted 
his views by raising difficulties about the money requisite for the 
enterprise. In fact little more aid from France was received 
than 5,000 or 6,000 men, conveyed by a fleet well supplied with 
arms and ammunition ; to this Louis added a profusion of rich 
furniture. Himself proceeding to take leave of James at St. 
Germains, giving him a coat of mail, as his last present, he em- 
braced him, and said : " The best thing I can wish you is that I 
may never see you more." 

Upon James's landing in Ireland, he marched his army from 
Kinsale to Ulster ; it now was swelled to 30,000 foot and 8,000 
horse, including the French. Excepting the latter, they were in a 
state of undisciplined wildness, attempting to coerce the counsels 
of their leaders; and, to make matters worse, the French and the 
Irish perpetually were quarrelling. His friends in England were 
pressing his picking out the best he could, and sending them 
over to land in the north of England, or the west of Scotland. 
However, it was first necessary to reduce Londonderry : to effect 
this one of two courses was requisite ; either to march with 
great strength and take it immediately by a vigorous attack ; or 
to blockade it, and so force a surrender ; meanwhile turning to 
other important designs. Either of these plans might have an- 
swered, but, apparently under the influence of that fatality 
which seemed to hang over the Stuart race ; they adopted the 
injudicious mode of merely sending a few to press the town 
with a slow siege. These were often changed, and thus they 
proceeded for two months, during which period the poor inha- 
bitants formed themselves into great order, and came to the 
determinate resolution of enduring the last extremities rather 
than surrender. In the sallies they occasionally 'made, the Irish 
troops under James invariably ran away, leaving their best offi- 
cers to be slaughtered. So dreadful were their sufferings that 
nearly two-thirds of their number were destroyed by hunger 
and disease. Having had supplies promised them, and been 
deceived by the governor, Lundy, who wets in the interest of 
James, the poor creatures still resolved to hold out. Across the 
river that came up to their town the Irish in James's army had 
laid a boom and chains, and had planted batteries for defending 
it. At length a convoy of 5,000 being sent to their relief, 



244 SCHOMBERG CREATED A DUKE. 

one of the ships, sailing up with wind and tide, broke through, 
and so the town was relieved, and the siege raised in great 
confusion. 

From the parliamentary debates by Grey ; Ware's works, by 
Harris ; and the true account of the siege of Londonderry, by 
Walker ; we learn, in addition to the few particulars of this 
siege picked out of Burnet, that the chief instrument in persuad- 
ing the inhabitants of Londonderry to such a gallant defence 
was Dr. George Walker, a protestant clergymen : he was a na- 
tive of the county of Tyrone. As soon as ordained, he was 
appointed to the rectory of Donoughmore, where he raised a 
regiment when James II. landed. He threw himself and his men 
into Londonderry as soon as he understood that the ex-king had 
determined to besiege it. Colonel Lundy, the governor, either 
a traitor, or a coward, or both, shut himself up in his chamber, 
and would not interfere in the defence. He was consequently 
turned out of the town by Mr. Walker ; who, in conjunction with 
Major Baker, was appointed governor. The siege commenced 
April 20 ; the town was miserably fortified, and the besieging 
army large ; yet it was defended for 105 days, and eventually 
relieved. For his bravery, Walker received the thanks of the 
House of Commons ; and the University of Oxford made him a 
Dr. of Divinity. He was afterwards nominated to the bishopric 
of Derry, but. accompanying William III., was drowned in the 
Boyne,in July 1690. Enniskillen met with the same fate, through 
the undaunted resolution of the inhabitants ; although a consi- 
derable force was sent against them, they held out till relieved. 

That able general Schomberg had been raised to a dukedom 
in England, and parliament had voted him £100,000 for his 
services. He was now appointed to command an army of inex- 
perienced levies, hastily got together in England ; and having 
been favoured with a quick and safe passage, landed at Belfast 
with 10,000 men, to which he drew the forces of Ulster. He could 
not muster above 14,000 altogether, 2,000 only were cavalry; 
with these he now posted himself at Ulster. James went to 
Ardee, within five or six miles of him, with an army of three 
times that number. Schomberg had met with shameful neglect, 
or treason, in having supplies detained ; and, being overtaken 
by the rainy season, was forced to lie upon the defensive for six 
weeks, during this time half his numbers perished from want and 
disease. He was blamed for inactivity and remonstrances were 
made to the king, who twice wrote to urge him to action. But 
Schomberg showed his wisdom, for, had he attacked James, 
there is no doubt it would have proved a failure, and the cause 
in Ireland would have been utterly ruined. Thus quiescent 
matters remained till the end of October, when the army went 
into winter quarters. 



TOLERATION OF WILLIAM. 245 

No sooner had James landed in Ireland than he was follow- 
ed by another fleet of 23 men-of-war, with a considerable num- 
ber of transport ships, under the command of Chateau Renaud. 
The English fleet, under Herbert, followed them ; after the 
French had landed their stores, as they came out of Bantry Bay, 
Herbert attacked them. But the wind was so in the teeth of the 
English that they could network up their ships ; and the French 
gained some advantage. However, they either dared not, or 
could not, pursue the English ships, though they made a won- 
derful gasconade about it ; and Herbert conveyed his damaged 
vessels to Portsmouth. He went out again, lying before Brest 
for several months, during which not a Frenchman would come 
out. In their return, the French took some Dutch ships, so 
that they reached Brest " covered with glory." Soon after, there 
was a third embarkation at Brest, Toulon and Rochefort : the 
ports of Ireland and the channel were now covered with French 
ships. Tourville, the French admiral, having under his command 
72 ships, fell in with a Dutch and English fleet of merchantmen, 
of whom the French took several. By their courage and im- 
proved science they obtained more important advantages over 
some of our men-of-war and the Dutch, who were surprised by 
overwhelming numbers. The enemy had thus profited from hav- 
ing been encouraged in the art of naval warfare by our wretched 
ex-king, as well as from the nobly-directed efforts of Colbert. 
The French were so exhilarated by these successes that they 
thought they were to be masters of the sea. Privateers, galleys, 
fishing boats, the few prizes they had taken, all clubbed their 
strength together and made an impudent descent at Tynemouth, 
attacking our merchantmen in the bay. Oh ! how they have 
paid, and ever will pay, for daring thus to rouse the British 
lion. 

While his supporters were thus gaining fresh " glory," James 
had not earned much in Ireland. Although the position of 
William's affairs in that country, by reason of the continued 
civil war ; and in England, by reason of the factious conduct of 
the bishops and the clergy ; left a general impression of melan- 
choly. I must avoid farther notice of the condition of England 
than as bearing upon the settlement of William, the deposition 
and final expulsion of James, and the aspect of these circum- 
stances upon the history of Louis XIV. Forbidden, therefore, 
to enter minutely into the causes of the great difficulty William 
unexpectedly encountered from those very clergy who had de- 
throned James II., I can only generally say that it arose from the 
liberality and tolerating spirit of the king. He had been trained 
in Calvinistic views, and could never so far forget the excellence 
of those catholic principles as to sacrifice truth to outward cere- 
monies. Burnet informs us " the king was susoected by them 

p3 



246 HIGH CHURCHISM. 

by reason of the favour shown to dissenters (horresco referens !) 
%ut chiefly for his abolishing episcopacy in Scotland." The 
church now formed a great party of obstructives, spreading about 
reports that the king wanted to pull down that sacred edifice, 
and to denominate such of the clergy as saw their true inte- 
rests, and were for strengthening the hands of the king, Soci- 
niaszs ; which slanders were mainly encouraged by several of 
the bishops. 

In short, the universities and the church were in a flame ; 
as with the revivers of " godly discipline" now, so then, to be 
moderate was to be marked, and the Jacobite party were at work, 
sheltered by the wings of the church. For so " quick a turn" 
had she again made that all sorts of reflections were thrown 
upon the king — his name was cast out as evil. Having acumen 
enough to restrain these spirits, who " took fire" at his efforts 
" to make the terms of communion with the church as large as 
might be," his authority was denied, and common decency and 
respect to his office was lost sight of by those who teach the 
children in the catechism to reverence their betters. Just as it 
was, four or five years ago, the fashion for the clergy to misre- 
present our beloved queen — while the Whigs held the reins of 
government. The most impartial reader of history must dis- 
cover a tone of narrow selfishness and unchristian domineering, 
that leaves an indelible stain on the church of the period of the 
" glorious revolution," which they had brought about essentially 
for their own protection. If it become necessary to point with 
scorn to the high-flyers of that day, to the credit of the esta- 
blishment be it recorded, there were many of a contrary mind, 
who busied themselves in softening down asperities and forward- 
ing the true interests of their church and country. 

It now became necessary for William himself to go over to 
Ireland, for the purpose of opening the campaign. The day be- 
fore he left, he sent for Burnet into his closet, and under a great 
weight of spirit from the cloudy state of affairs, he told the 
good bishop that, " for his own part, he trusted in God, and 
would either go through with his business or perish in it. He 
only pitied the poor queen, repeating that twice with great ten- 
derness, and wished that those who loved him would wait on 
her, and assist her. He lamented much the factions and th* 
heats that were afloat, and that the bishops and clergy, instead 
of allaying them, did rather ferment and inflame them : but he 
was pleased to make an exception of Burnet. He said that 
going to a campaign was naturally no unpleasant thing to him : 
he was sure he understood that better than how to govern Eng- 
land. He added, though he had no doubt nor mistrust of the 
cause he went on, yet the going against King James in person 
was hard upon him, since it would be a vast trouble, both to 



WILLIAM GOES TO IRELAND. 24 7 

himself and the queen, if he should be either killed or taken pri- 
soner : he desired Burnet's prayers, and dismissed him, very 
deeply affected with all he said." Oh, if all the bishops had 
been like this disinterested, gentle and heavenly-minded man 
what a different structure might have been the church of Eng- 
land ! To the praise of William it should be told that a clever 
scheme was now got up, under a feigned pretence to entrap 
James on board a ship — the individual who was to be the dis- 
graceful actor was to have had 420,000. Although the king 
doubted not its success, he refused to soil his hands with trea- 
chery ; and stated, among other objections, the danger to James's 
person, in short, he would sanction no such underhanded mea- 
sures. 

William III. had a quick passage to Ireland, where he found 
matters little improved: James's army was in good condition, 
zealous and energetic. William lost no time, but advanced in 
six days from Belfast, where he landed, to the river of Boyne, 
near Drogheda. With the fatality attending his course, James 
abandoned the passes between Newry and Dundalk, that are so 
favourable by nature for defence as to have enabled him easily 
to have disputed every inch of ground. James and his party 
had been so much elevated with the distractions the clergy had 
created in England that they had not credited the possibility 
of William's leaving London under the excitement. He had 
arrived six days before it became known to James, who now 
passed the Boyne, and posted his army on the south. He had 
26,000 men, of whom 5,000 infantry were French, in exchange 
for whom he had sent Louis over 500 of the finest pisentry. 
By the bye, if an exchange of 5,000,000 could now be effected, 
might it not tend to the quiet of that emerald isle ? A council 
of war was held as to the propriety of deciding all by a general 
action, or abandoning all the country on to Dublin. Amidst 
the conflicting opinions, James himself was positive to stay and 
defend the Boyne, and at length was glad to have a battle for 
the crown. He seemed urged on by an almost desperate wea- 
riness of his life; alarming his friends, lest he should plunge 
into some fatal rashness, which the sequel showed they had, 
however, little occasion to dread. 

William went to the banks of the river, and as he was riding 
along, and making a pause in one spot to observe the grounds, 
the enemy spied him, and, immediately planting two pieces of 
cannon, directed a shot to his person. The aim was so true 
that it tore off some of his clothes, and about a hand-breadth 
of the skin off his shoulder ; a spoonful of blood came out, and 
that was all the harm it did him. On which occasion, he coolly 
uttered the memorable saying, " Every bullet has its billet." 
Having had the wound washed, and a plaister put on, he 



248 THE DUKE OF SCHOMBERG RILLED. 

mounted his steed again, and remained on horseback that day 
for 19 hours. He considered himself the more compelled to 
show himself to his soldiers as they had been panic-struck with 
his accident. Seeing the disaster, among the enemy it was 
said he was killed, and that news being carried to France, it was 
generally believed he was dead. Upon which the French com- 
memorated the event with more public rejoicings than had been 
usually adopted on the greatest victories. So that their mor- 
tification, on hearing of his safety, was only to be equalled 
by the gratification of his friends at the disappointment of 
his inhuman enemies, for his confessedly important life being 
spared. 

William sent a large body of cavalry to cross the river higher 
up, whilst he resolved to pass in the face of the enemy, and the 
Duke of Schomberg was to go over at another place, a little 
lower. The Irish behaved most shamefully, and perplexed the 
French, whose ability and courage were rendered useless. 
James followed the cowardly flight of the Irish, or rather ran 
before them, as he had the unenviable honour of being the first 
to quit the field, and reached Dublin before the fight was over. 
William, with the horse, pursued the Irish till all were literally 
spent with weariness; and, as they had so far preceded the 
ammunition wagons, they were also exhausted for want of sup- 
port, neither could a supply of food be procured till the next 
morning. King William expected and wished, as the Irish 
were deserted by their officers, that they would disperse, and so 
spare the need of a slaughter, which he always abhorred. The 
Duke of Schomberg was carelessly riding along, driving the 
Irish before him, when a large body of the enemy suddenly fell 
upon the small party accompanying him, and in the melee, he 
received what is called a chance shot, which terminated the 
career of this able commander, and proved a sad alloy to the 
victory. 

James told them, on his arrival at Dublin, all was lost : he 
contrasted his English army with that just dispersed ; and made 
some disparaging remarks concerning their want of spirit — not 
very decent from the foremost of those who had fled, and apt 
to remind one of the vulgar adage that the worst spoke of the 
wheel calls out first. He had grace enough, however, the next 
morning, to observe that too much blood had already been 
shed, and that God was evidently with their enemies ; and, as 
William was a merciful man, he ordered all to submit to him, 
and to set the prisoners free. On the other hand, it must be 
told to his reproach that, on passing through Galloway, on his 
retreat, he had caused some of the inhabitants to be hanged 
because they had talked of shutting their gates against him. 
Voltaire, commenting on this, attributes the difference of the 



PLOTS OF THE JACOBITES, 249 

fate of the two men, William and James, to the difference of 
their characters, commending William for a contrary line of 
conduct in proclaiming a general pardon. James rode from 
Dublin to Duncannon Fort ; still, though a place of great 
strength, he would not trust himself to^ sleep there, but lay- 
aboard a French ship, anchored there at his special direction by 
Sir Patrick Trant. His courage sunk with his affairs — Dublin 
was forsaken by his party, and the protestants declared for 
King William: Drogheda also capitulated. A plan was sus- 
pected to have existed by which the Jacobite party, amidst this 
state of things in Ireland, were to have contrived for our fleet 
to fall into the hands of the French. Indeed the destruction 
of the Dutch men-of-war nearly happened by the treachery of 
the Earl of Torrington, who kept from action, instead of as- 
sisting the Dutch, when the greatly superior force of French 
ships fell upon them near Beachy Head. The Dutch ships 
Would have been lost, had not Calembourg, their admiral, ordered 
them to drop their anchors while their sails were all up. As it 
was, they lost many men, and sunk some of their damaged 
ships, that they should not fall into the hands of the enemy. 

The French fleet was now so situate that, had our admiral 
done his duty, it would almost have been all taken ; and as the 
French admiral was equally inert, it looks very much as if the 
suspicions of underhanded work were not without foundation. 
The Earl of Torrington was sent to the tower, and his command 
of the fleet was transferred to three of our best sea officers. 
Suspected persons were arrested, the Jacobites kept out of the 
way; and as we had not above 7,000 troops in England, it had 
been necessary to call out the militia at this inconvenient time, 
for harvest was approaching, and people could not well leave 
their labour. Yet the nation manifested much more zeal and 
affection to the new government than was to be calculated on, 
as there was a general expectation of a great rising of the 
Jacobites. Throughout these troubles the queen exhibited great 
firmness, and, under dismal depression of spirits, she kept up 
an apparent cheerfulness in public. Burnet tells us he saw her 
every week, for that summer he resided at Windsor, and ad- 
mired her heroic conduct, which kept pace with the extent of 
the danger. She committed herself to God, and told the bishop 
she would herself make a campaign in England, while her royal 
consort was in Ireland, if need be. 

The king, on entering Dublin, was pained by the intelligence 
of the damage to the Dutch navy. The Earl of Tyrconnel had 
been the leader of the Jacobites, and all his papers and those 
of James II. were secured. From this transpired the design of 
burning the fleet by the French, that indeed there appeared 
every likelihood, during the panic of the people and the treachery 



250 ESCAPES OF WILLIAM III. 

of the Jacobites, of their succeeding in. Among these papers 
was a letter of James's to his queen at St. Germains, in which 
he expressed his fear that all was lost ; he concluded, " I have 
now no hope in any thing but in Jones's business." The ex- 
planation of this is that one Jones, an Irishman, had agreed to 
murder William. This ruffian was introduced to James, who at 
first affected scruples, but was finally " satisfied both in con- 
science and honour," that, although the assassin's terms were 
high, "everything should be done that Jones desires." Deagle, 
James's attorney-general, personally furnished this worthy with 
money and a poinard of a particular construction ; and they 
gave him a bible, bound in a particular manner, that he was to 
carry in his pocket, so that if the scheme miscarried, and he 
should be apprehended, he was to pass for a protestant dis- 
senter. ^ 

The end of this nefarious business was that King William 
left Ireland before the appointed time of his murder ; and, as 
James at once absconded, his exemplary co-adjutor, having 
received a large part of his wages, made off, and never more was 
heard of. But, although the particulars were all officially got 
together, and prepared for publication, out of tenderness for 
the reputation of their royal relative, the king and queen quash- 
ed the affair. We again see the difference between the two cha- 
racters, and recur to Voltaire's remark. Burnet tells us that on 
this business King William observed privately to him that God 
had preserved him out of many dangers, and he trusted he would 
still preserve him ; he could truly say he could never retaliate in 
such a way. The remarkable escape the king had from the 
cannon ball at the Boyne was so talked of that smaller perils 
were little regarded ; yet it should be generally known that, in 
the same battle, a musket ball struck the heel of his boot, and, 
recoiling, killed a horse near him. At another time, one of his 
own men, mistaking him for an enemy, came up to shoot him ; 
upon this William gently turned aside his pistol, and only said, 
" Do you not know your friends ?" James II. now sailed away 
from Duncannon, and was forced by contrary winds into the road 
of Kinsale, where he met the French fire ships; he told them all 
was over, and used them as a convoy back to France. He met 
with a cold reception, as his miscarriage was attributed to his 
personal cowardice ; but, though the French despised the fugi- 
tive king, Louis continued to befriend him. 

Limerick contained 12,000 of James's army; from its insu- 
lar position it was easy to secure supplies ; and as William had 
been compelled to leave garrisons in several places, and had 
sent some of his best troops back to England, he had not now 
above 20,000 soldiers left. Louis still resolved to support that 
cause which James had so ingloriously abandoned, and to that 



DEATH OF THE BUKE OF GRAFTON. 251 

end embarked 3,000 regular troops for Limerick, sending also 
necessaries for the inhabitants as well as the soldiers. Notwith- 
standing the consternation of the besieged, they resolved to 
hold out; and though William passed the river, that was then 
very low, and viewed their posts, not having sufficient force, he 
was constrained to press the town on the Munster side. His 
difficulties were increased by treachery among the officers, who 
seemed much more to play into each others' hands, thereby to 
enrich themselves by the continuance of the war, than to esta- 
blish William's throne in power and safety. The king's tent 
was pitched within reach of their cannon, they often shot over 
it, and beat down a tent very near it ; so he was prevailed on to 
allow it to be removed to a greater distance. Once, upon re- 
ceiving a packet of letters from England, he sat down in the 
open field for some hours reading them, while the cannon balls 
were flying round about him. 

The Irish could do wonders, according to Burnet, when they 
were behind walls, how little courage soever they showed in the 
field. William was forced by the heavy rains to raise the siege 
of Limerick; and, as Marlborough had written over to propose 
that 5,000 men lying idle should be sent back to Ireland, and 
try to take Cork and Kinsale ; the king approved, and ordered 
him to come with them. He was delayed by contrary winds 
until October; but, very soon after his arrival, he took Cork 
by storm, and 4,000 of the garrison were made prisoners of war. 
In this action the Duke of Grafton received a wound, of which 
he died in a few days. He was the most hopeful of Charles's 
bastards ; his mother was the Duchess of Cleveland. He had 
seen a good deal of service, naval as well as military ; and when 
the Duke of Somerset declined introducing the pope's nuncio 
at James's public audience, the Duke of Grafton performed 
this unpopular act. He after that served James in various ca- 
pacities ; but, when the king's insane courses destroyed all hope, 
upon the arrival of William, he and Marlborough joined the 
prince. He adhered to his establishment, and bore the globe at 
the coronation of William and Mary. He was born in 1663, and 
killed in 1690, heading the grenadiers at the breach. In 1664 
he had been created Baron Arlington, in 1672, viscount and 
earl, and raised to the Dukedom of Grafton in 1675. His body 
was taken to Euston Hall, Suffolk, which continues to this day 
the family seat of his descendant, the fifth duke. 

From Cork, the Earl of Marlborough marched to Kinsale, 
where he found he had been misled relative to the strength of 
that place ; and had he known it, he would not have undertaken 
a siege at so late a season of the year. The enemy plundered, 
burnt, and destroyed in all directions, but feared to concentrate 
their forces, so as to compel the earl to raise the siege, notwith- 



252 LAUZUN LEAVES IRELAND. 

standing, in a few days, Kinsale capitulated. The reduction of 
these places so promptly was of great advantage, as thereby the 
communication between France and Ireland was cut off. My 
reader will remember (at p. 194,) my winding up the history of 
Lauzun, who commanded the French in this expedition. I was 
the more tempted to do so from the insignificance of that vain 
character ; so that I have scarcely alluded to him in this sketch 
of the French effort to subdue Ireland. It merely remains to 
say that, on learning the approach of William to Limerick, 
Lauzun left that place, embarking all his equipage for France, 
and it was all sunk in the Shannon. He himself, with the 
troops entrusted to his command, lay all this while about Gal- 
way, without attempting any thing. Sending over to his court 
an account of his desperate condition, he required ships to fetch 
them away. This was done ; and the Earl of Tyrconnel, and 
the Count Lauzun, weary of the service, sailed away. 

The former wanted to renew the war, and, as the men could 
not agree, he suggested that, instead of sending French troops, 
if the French would send officers, with all other ammunition, 
the Irish would yet stand to it, if supported by France. Ano- 
ther campaign was opened in Ireland by the taking of Balti- 
more. It had been but slenderly provided by St. Ruth, one of 
the most violent of the persecutors of the protestants in France, 
who had been, according to Tyrconnel's plan, sent over with 
200 French officers. Ginkle, who commanded the English, 
thence advanced to Athlone, St. Ruth being posted on the other 
side of the Shannon, with an army equal to ours. The English 
passed the river, entered the breaches, and took Athlone, at the 
cost of 50 men, while of the Irish 1,000 perished. St. Ruth 
retired to Aughrim, where he posted himself most advantage- 
ously, and was superior in numbers, having concentrated his 
forces from the small garrisons abandoned, and the larger places 
from which they had been driven. To make the wild Irish 
stand, the priests went among them and made them swear on 
the sacrament that they never would desert their colours, which 
produced a temporary effect upon them, for in the next encoun- 
ter they stood much longer than usual. But the Irish at length 
ran away ; the French general St, Ruth and many more officers 
were killed; about 8,000 soldiers, and all their cannon and bag- 
gage were taken. Ginkle proceeded after this great success to 
Galway, which soon capitulated, leaving Limerick the only 
place that stood out. The celebrated Earl of Tyrconnel died 
of grief about this time, but not before lamenting the extre- 
mities to which matters had gone, and advising the Irish to 
accept such terms as could be procured, for he began to see 
that they were being sacrificed to the ends of France. 

The French had sent relief to Limerick, and another squa- 



A MAN OF MANY TITLES. I06 

dron of their ships, much stronger than our naval force there, 
now stood over to that coast. It was feared they would sail up 
the river, and destroy our shipping there ; so that another squa- 
dron of English was ordered thither. The French however did 
not venture their ships within the Shannon, where they could 
meet with no shelter; and as the misunderstanding between the 
Irish and French daily widened, and they anticipated no farther 
relief from France, Limerick resolved to capitulate. This was 
equally acceptable to Ginkle and his army, as they were much 
straitened, the country being exhausted from the long war, and 
their horses almost worn out. But the Irish were urged by the 
French to make high demands ; and Ginkle had been privately 
instructed by King William to grant almost any thing they asked, 
that the war might be brought to a conclusion. All were par- 
doned here, and elsewhere in Ireland, upon their taking the 
oaths of allegiance to their majesties ; restored to all they had 
enjoyed in Charles's time ; and admitted to the full privileges of 
subjects, without being bound to take the oath of supremacy. 
Not only the French, but as many Irish as pleased, had " free 
liberty and a safe transportation" to France ; upon which Burnet 
says 12,000 Irish abandoned their country, but Voltaire rates 
the number of refugees as at least 20,000. 

Thus terminated the civil war of Ireland, and with it that o* 
England. Ginkle returned to England covered with glory (as 
the phrase goes) ; in reality having entitled himself to the praise 
and noble rewards that we have never been backward to bestow 
on successful commanders. The historian of the commonwealth, 
Mark Noble, calls him " a man of many titles." His names and 
titles were, Godart-de-Reede-de-Ginkle, Baron-de-Reede and 
Ginkle, Lord Amoronger, Middachiez, Liversall, Elst, Stewelt, 
Roenberg, &c. ; knight of the royal order of the elephant, gene- 
ral of the cavalry of the United Provinces, grand commander of 
the Teutonic order, general of the dukedom of Gueldre, and 
the county of Zutphen ; and Earl of Athlone and Baron of 
Aughrim, in the peerage of Ireland. The House of Commons 
voted him thanks : such were his honours. His more substan- 
tial rewards were the confirmation of a grant of land given him 
by the king, the forfeited estate of William Dougan, Earl of 
Limerick ; but four years afterwards the parliament voted this 
grant of more than 26,000 acres " too extravagant." Godart 
de-Reede-de- Ginkle was disgusted — left England — kept all he 
could hold — entered the service of Holland, in which he again 
distinguished himself, and died in 1703. He left a line of suc- 
cessors who have rejoiced in these euphonous names, the pos- 
sessor at this moment, being ninth earl, George-Godart- Henry 
De-Reede-de- Ginkell, for so they spell the last now. In the direct 
line, and in the collateral branches, both males and females con- 



254 NAVAL DISASTERS. 

tinue to be adorned with these uncouth and foreign cognomens. 
Apposite and edifying as I trust my reader will find it, " let us 
read for our instruction" the following little poem, which we 
may entitle 

DIFFIDENT MERIT. 

Proud as a peer, poor as a bard, 

A footsome Spaniard late one night 
Knock'd at a tavern-door so hard — 

It roused the family in a fright. 

Up sprang the host from his bed-side, 

Open the chamber-window flew : 
" Who's there? What boisterous hand,' - he cried : 

" Makes at my gate this loud ado ?" 

" Here is," the stately Spaniard said, 

*' Don Lopez, Rodriguez, Alonzo, 
Pedrillo, Gusman, Alvarade, 

Jago, Miguel, Alphonso, 

'' Antonio, Diego,"— " Hold! hold! hoi 
Exclaim'd the landlord, " pray forbear — 

For half the numbers you have told 
I have not half a bed to spare." 

" Sir !" quoth the Don, " 'tis your mistake, 
If names for men of course you count : 

Though long th' illustrious list I make, 
In me still centres all th' amount. 

" "Worn down with tramping many a mile, 

Don Lopez, Rodriguez, Pedrillo, 
With all the et-ceteras of his style, 

Will sleep upon a single pillow" 

The government of William was now established : he went 
over the following March to Holland to prepare for an early 
campaign : and intimated in his speech to parliament the design 
of a descent upon France — which our exhaustion of men and 
money prevented. Meanwhile James was preparing another on 
England, that was intended for the end of April ; he had yet 
about him 14,000 troops, English and Irish, and Marshal Belle- 
fonds was to accompany the expedition with 3,000 French. 
They were assembled between Cherbourg and La Hogue, 300 
transport ships being got ready at Brest ; and were promised 
horses by the English Jacobites at their landing. Tourville, the 
gallant French admiral, with 44 men of war, waited for them on 
the coasts of Normandy; and D'Etrces was on his way from 
Toulon with another squadron of 30 sail. The wind suddenly 
chopped about, and prevented his joining Tourville, who was 
attacked by nearly 100 ships of the united fleets of England and 
Holland. But so adverse was the wind that not half of ours 



ADMIRAL RUSSEL. 255 

could be brought into action : after an engagement Of several 
hours, the combatants were separated by a fog. Admiral Russel 
pursued some of the French for two days, while Asliby followed 
another squadron. The latter was much reflected on for want 
of spirit, whereby 26 French ships escaped : and Russel unfor- 
tunately pursued too far, so as to cause several of our ships to 
be stranded on the French coast, while only two or three of the 
enemy were then destroyed. Rook burnt 16 more before La 
Hogue. 

In Noble's Continuation of Grainger, it is said, Louis XIV., 
knowing that Admiral Russel was avaricious, sent him £20,000, 
requesting him not to fight on this occasion, but to manoeuvre. 
Under pretence of deliberating, he sent to William III., to 
know how he was to act? he received this laconic answer: 
" Take the money, and beat them." This Russel was raised 
to the peerage in 1697, by the title of Earl of Orford, in Suffolk, 
and Viscount Barneur, in Normandy. On one occasion he gave 
a nautical treat : he had & cistern made to hold punch, composed 
of 4 hogsheads of brandy, 8 of water, 25,000 lemons, 20 gallons 
of lime-juice, 1,3001b. of sugar, 51b. of grated nutmegs, 300 
toasted biscuits, and a pipe of mountain wine. Persons in a 
small boat filled for all comers, and more than 6,000 partook 
of this Caspian bowl. He lived till 1727. Whether or not 
treachery was practised, certain it is that the English com- 
manders were much reflected on. They pleaded cross winds 
and contrary orders; and the common remark was that God 
had given a victory which man knew not how to improve. 
Russel complained of the Earl of Nottingham, the ministers 
complained of Russel, the merchants complained of the ad- 
miralty, saying they had provided neither ships nor seamen 
sufficient for a great fleet, and to send out convoys for securing 
trade. James was standing on the shore, a spectator of this 
calamity which, while in England it was complained of as so 
imperfect a victory, plunged him in the depths of despair. 

A vile project was now discovered to assassinate King 
William, approved and encouraged, if not primarily suggested, 
by James and Louis. The wretched tools were discovered, one 
of them, Grandvai, was tried, condemned, and executed; his 
confession was printed, implicating the two kings, and indeed 
they took no pains to refute the charge. Abetting or concocting 
such schemes was all that was left to the detestable James ; and 
Voltaire sensibly remarks on the certainty of the throne never 
more being opened to him, even had his dastardly and wicked 
attempts succeeded. The Earl of Middleton went over to France, 
deputed by a considerable body of English Jacobite gentry, to 
request James to resign his title in favour of his alleged son, and 
to send him to be brought up in England. James would not 

a 2 



256 LAST ILLNESS OF JAMES II. 

fail in with this scheme. At the time of the proposed descent 
on England, the failure of which I have just recorded, James 
had prepared a declaration, printed ready for distribution. In 
this he spoke in the style of a conqueror, not limiting himself 
by any promises : it was much blamed, even by his own party, 
and although some copies were abroad, they got up another, 
promising every thing, and pardoning all. In February another 
serious plot to assassinate King William was discovered and 
defeated: in fact, conspiracies and schemes on the life of the 
king rapidly succeeded each other — so that the interpositions of 
Providence were manifest in his preservation : and many were 
tried and executed, from time to time. 

In such occupations — in perpetual plots with his Jacobite 
friends in England, living in the undisguised contempt of the 
French people, who could never tolerate the mixture of fanatical 
devotion with crime, did this wretched son and brother of a 
king— himself for a short and unhappy space also a monarch — 
pass the dishonoured remainder of his days — the salaried de- 
pendent of a great king, of whom both brothers had been pen- 
sionaries during their possession of regal power. I pass on, 
leaving sundry historical events afterwards chronologically to 
take up, for the purpose of conducting my reader to the close 
of the mortal career of this dark character — as his public life 
is ended — that he may no more encumber us in the recital of 
the interesting events of Louis' reign. He himself seemed little 
concerned at those misfortunes that would have destroyed a 
sensitive mind ; indeed, his only disquiet seemed to be when his 
queen was engaged in one or other of the many wild schemes 
which still engrossed her vain thoughts. James lived at St. 
Germains, upon the bounty of Louis, and was so mean as 
secretly to receive a pecuniary allowance from his daughter, 
Mary, by whom he had been dethroned. He went sometimes 
to the monastery of La Trappe, edifying the poor monks with 
his humble and pious deportment. His chief diversion was 
hunting, and his time thus passed on between his devotions, his 
harmless amusements, and encouragement, active or passive, of 
plots against his son-in-law. 

In the beginning of the year 1700, he had appeared to be 
very near his end, and it was thought he could not live through 
the year: he went to the waters of Bourbon, but derived no 
benefit ; and in September fell into such fits that it was evident 
he could not live long. Burnet informs us that he solicited the 
favour of the French king towards his family. In the " Stuart 
Papers/' the account somewhat varies: " His most Christian 
Majesty went in to the king, and coming to the bed-side, said, 
1 Sir, I am come to see how your Majesty finds yourself to-day!' 
but the king, not hearing, made no reply. Upon which, one of 



DEATH BED OF JAMES. 257 

his servants telling him that the King of France was there, he 
roused himself up, and said, 'Where is he?' upon which the 
King of France said, ' Sir, I am here, and come to see how you do/ 
So then the king began to thank him for all his favours, and par- 
ticularly for the care and kindness he had shown him during 
his sickness ; to which his most Christian Majesty replied, ' Sir, 
that is but a small matter; I have something to acquaint you 
with of greater importance.' Upon which the king's servants, 
imagining he would be private, the room being full of people, 
began to retire. 

" His most Christian Majesty perceiving this, said aloud, 
'Let nobody withdraw!' and then went on, * Sir, I am come to 
acquaint you that, whenever it shall please God to call your 
Majesty out of this world, I will take your family into my pro- 
tection, and will treat your son, the Prince of Wales, in the 
same manner as I have treated you, and acknowledge him, as he 
then will be, King of England.' Upon which, all that were 
present, as well French as English, burst into tears, not being 
able any other way to express that mixture of joy and grief with 
which they were so surprisingly seized. Some indeed threw 
themselves at his Most Christian Majesty's feet; others, by 
their gestures and countenances (much more expressive on 
such occasions than words and speeches) declared their gra- 
titude for so generous an action ; with which His Most Chris- 
tian Majesty was so much moved that he could not refrain from 
weeping himself. The king all this while was endeavouring to 
say something to him upon it, but the confused noise being too 
great, and he too weak to make himself be heard, His Most 
Christian Majesty took his leave, and went away; and, as he 
got into his coach, called the officer of the guard who waited 
upon the king, and gave him directions to follow, and attend 
the Prince of Wales as soon as the king was dead, and show 
him the same respect and honours he had done to the king his 
father when he was alive." 

In the " Memoires de la Duchesse d'Orleans," we are told 
" King James died with great firmness and resolution, and with- 
out bigotry ; that is to say, in a very different manner from what 
he lived. I saw and spoke to him exactly 24 hours before his 
death. I told him I trusted very shortly to see him restored to 
health. He turned to me with a smile, ' And if I die,' he said, 
'shall I not have lived enough?'" To this the author adds: — 
" Such were the last moments of King James. Whatever may 
have been his errors, whether in faith or conduct, however the 
man of the world may laugh at his folly, or the bigot scorn his 
tenets, the true christian will admire him for his sincerity ; the 
philosopher will envy him his resignation ; and the wise man, 
whatever his creed may be, will pray that in the hour of disso- 
lution, his last end may be like his." 



258 CHARACTER OF JAMES. 

Feeling unfavourably myself towards the character of James, 
I have thought it right to give my reader the best means of judg- 
ing for himself, therefore I have given the foregoing extracts. 
I shall add one from Voltaire, bearing generally upon the un- 
happy race of Stuart : " It was pretended by some Irish Jesuits 
that there were miracles wrought at his tomb ; there was even 
a report that Rome intended to canonize this prince after his 
death, whom she had entirely forsaken during his life. Few 
princes have been more unfortunate than James ; nor have we 
an instance in history of a family so unhappy for such a number 
of years. The first of his ancestors who reigned over Scotland, 
and was likewise named James, after having been eighteen 
years a prisoner in England, was, together with his queen, mur- 
dered by his own subjects. James II., his son, was killed in a 
battle with the English at the age of 19. James III., being first 
imprisoned by his people, was afterwards killed in the field by 
the rebels. James IV. likewise lost his life in an unfortunate 
battle. Mary Stuart, his granddaughter, having been driven from 
her throne, took refuge in England, where, after languishing in 
prison 18 years, she was condemned to death by English judges, 
and, accordingly, beheaded. Charles I., her grandson, king of 
England, as well as Scotland, being betrayed and delivered up 
by the Scots, was sentenced to death by the English, and suf- 
fered publicly on a scaffold. James, his son, the seventh of the 
name, and second of England, was driven out of his three king- 
doms, and, as a farther aggravation of his misfortunes, even 
the legitimacy of his son was disputed. This son likewise 
made efforts to regain the throne of his ancestors, but they 
proved fruitless, and were only the occasion of many of his 
friends suffering death by the hands of public executioners. 
We have also seen Prince Charles-Edward in vain exerting 
the virtues of his royal ancestors, and the courage of his mo- 
ther's father, King John Sobiesky : — this youth has performed 
great exploits, and undergone the most incredible hardships, 
but all to no purpose. If any thing can justify the opinion of 
those who believe in a fatality, according to which the affairs of 
mankind are governed, it is this continued series of misfortunes, 
which has persecuted the Stuart family for above 300 years." 

Burnet says James was a prince made for greater things 
than will be found in his life or reign. He was once esteemed a 
man of courage, and always had a turn for business ; while he 
had no vivacity of thought or expression, he had a good judg- 
ment, when unbiased. But from the high notions instilled into 
him of kingly power, he seems to have taken up as strange ideas 
of the obedience due to priests, so that the principles nature 
instilled into him were absorbed in the concerns of his church. 
Naturally, the bishop thought him a person of truth, fidelity, 
and justice; he was a gentle master, and easy to all who came 



ATTEMPTS OF HIS SON. 259 

near him, yet, as God's vicegerent (such is the phrase of the 
good churchman), he was not so apt to forgive as He who is 
slow to anger. While wandering from one amour to another, 
he yet had a real sense of sin, and was ashamed of it ; but the 
priests engaged him more entirely to their interests by making 
him compound for his sins by zeal for holy mother church. He 
was undone by the priests, so that to popery may be attributed 
the principal errors of his inglorious reign, and its fatal catas- 
trophe. He had the kind of funeral he himself desired, private, 
and without any sort of ceremony. When dying, to the sur- 
prise of many, he said nothing about the legitimacy of his al- 
leged son. But to him he addressed himself, recommending 
firmness in religion, and justice in government, if ever he came 
to reign : he said that, by his own practice, he recommended 
christian forgiveness to him, for he heartily forgave both Wil- 
liam III. and the emperor. 

James died in the 68th year of his age. His alleged son 
James-Francis-Edward, we have seen, was born May, 1688 ; being 
in France at the death of his reputed father James, the French 
king declared him King of England. In England that which 
was much more to the point took place, for the houses of Lords 
and Commons passed a bill of attainder of the pretended Prince 
of Wales, and of his mother as queen-regent for him. The title 
of " pretender " was first applied to him in a speech of Queen 
Anne's, at the time of his insane attempt in 1715. He died at 
Rome, Jan. 2, 1766, leaving two sons; the elder, Charles-Ed- 
ward, known also as the Pretender, in 1745, at the age of 25, 
landed in Scotland, supported by many factious noblemen and 
gentry, and followed by all the tag-rag-and-bobtail of Highland 
savages, made an invasion so far as Derby. The attempt might 
be called absurd, but for the awful calamity it entailed on his 
deluded followers ; who, half starved and destitute of breeches, 
gathered to his standard in hopes of plunder, and although 
characterised by the fierce animal courage which pertains to the 
nomadic tribes, and fighting with desperation, at the approach 
of the Duke of Cumberland, the Pretender and his breekless 
rabble retreated. Overtaken at Culioden, a desperate action 
ensued, which resulted in the destruction of " King " James-Fran- 
cis-Edward's army, 3,000 being left dead on the field of battle, the 
rest dispersing. The unhappy young " prince " passed through 
surprising and interesting adventures, that more belong to the 
province of the writer of works of imagination than to the stream 
of history, and which seem greatly endeared to the romantic 
Scotch. To their honour be it told — and it should be recorded 
as a set-off to their conduct to his great-grandfather — though 
a large reward was offered for the head of the misguided fugitive, 
thus combating against want and temptation, the peasants of 



260 CHARLES-EDWARD A DRUNKARD. 

Scotia, pitying his misfortunes, kept the fatal secret ; and even 
those of his enemies who were acquainted with his various 
retreats maintained an honourable silence. He escaped to St. 
Maloes, and never revisited his " dominions." 

The unfortunate "prince " latterly gave himself up to wine 
and brandy. This failing, if so mild a term — (that to an Irish 
labourer we should not apply, but describe him as a beastly 
drunkard — ) is required when speaking of a royal outcast, ap- 
pears to have preserved our country from a third attempt to re- 
store the Stuarts to the throne of their ancestors. " I know, 
from high authority/' says Sir N. W. Wraxhall, in his Histori- 
cal Memoirs, "that as late as the year 1770, the Duke de 
Choiseul, then first minister of France, not deterred by the ill 
success of the attempts made in 1715 and in 1745, meditated a 
third effort for restoring the house of Stuart. His enterprising 
spirit led him to profit by the dispute which arose between the 
English and Spanish crowns, respecting the possession of Falk- 
land island, in order to accomplish this object. As the first step 
necessary towards it, he despatched a private emissary to Rome, 
who signified to Charles- Edward the duke's desire of seeing 
him immediately at Paris. He complied, and arrived in that 
city with the utmost privacy. Having announced it to De Choiseul, 
the minister fixed the same night, at 12 o'clock, when he and 
the Marshal de Broglie would be ready to receive the pretender, 
and to lay before him their plan for an invasion of England. The 
hotel De Choiseul was named for the interview, to which place he 
was enjoined to repair in a hackney coach, disguised and with- 
out any attendant. At the appointed time the duke and the 
marshal, furnished with the requisite papers and instructions 
drawn up for his conduct on the expedition, were ready. But, 
after waiting a full hour, expecting his appearance every instant, 
when the clock struck one, they concluded some unforseen ac- 
cident must have intervened to prevent his arrival. Under this 
impression, they were preparing to separate, when the noise of 
wheels was heard in the court-yard ; and, a few moments after- 
wards, the Pretender entered the room in such a state of intoxi- 
cation as to be utterly incapable of even ordinary conversation. 
Disgusted, as well as indignant, at this disgraceful conduct, and 
well convinced that no expedition undertaken for the restoration 
of a man so lost to every sense of decency or self-interest could 
be crowned with success, De Choiseul, without hesitation, sent 
him the next morning a preremptory order to quit France. 

Charles-Edward married a German princess, by whom he 
left no issue. He also had a brother, Henry-Benedict, Cardinal 
York. When plundered and ill treated by the French revolu- 
tionists, this priest was honourably relieved by the King of 
England, and his declining years were soothed by his bounty. 



james's fiust queen. 261 

Charles -Edward died at Florence in 1788 ; and the sorrows and 
misfortunes of this celebrated family terminated by the death 
of the last of the Stuarts, Cardinal York, aged 84, in 1807. 
George IV. caused a handsome monument to be erected to 
commemorate the death of Henry-Benedict, and the extinction 
of the Stuart line. 

As James was the father of two queens by his first wife, it 
will here not be inappropriate to devote a page or two to her- 
self and family. The late Alexander Stephens, Esq., devoted 
an active life to the collection of curious anecdotes, that stand 
alone as cabinet pictures of men and manners. Of course the 
particulars will often offend, more especially on matters con- 
nected with the great ; but as it is my desire to describe things 
as they were, which too often is not as they should be, I shrink 
not from the record of any matter likely to be true, whether or 
not it turns out gratifying to family pride. This industrious 
collector has the following anecdote : " The grandmother of 
Queens Mary and Anne. — About the year 1625, there came to 
London a poor country wench, to get employment ; and, nothing 
better offering, she engaged herself to convey beer, by the 
gallon, on her head, from a brewhouse. Being lively and hand- 
some, her master fancied her, and made her his wife ; soon 
after, he left her a widow with considerable property. Unable 
to read or write, she called in the aid of one Hyde, an attorney, 
who, liking her fortune, made her his wife. By her, Hyde had 
children ; and afterwards, being returned to Parliament, he was 
made chancellor, and created Earl of Clarendon. James, Duke 
of York, having debauched one of his daughters, the earl com- 
pelled him to marry her ; and the fruits were the Queens Mary 
and Anne, whose grandmother was, of course, the very country 
wench of 60 years preceding. " At the death of Stephens, some 
of his papers were published in 1823, in a work of considerable 
literary celebrity. 

Immediate attention was paid to this statement by one 
" E. Duke," of Lake House, Wilts, who took up the cudgels from 
personally having the honour of a lineal descent from the illus- 
trious Lord Clarendon's grandfather, and because Clarendon 
was a native of Wilts ! Reminding one of Fluellen's reasoning, 
that " the situations, look you, is both alike between Macedon 
and Monmouth : there is a river in Macedon ; and there is also 
moreover a river in Monmouth." He spurns the imputation of 
Clarendon's having achieved greatness from a humble con- 
dition, and insists that the earl sprang from a most respectable 
family of that name, seated at Hyde and Norbury, County of 
Chester. He says that, under the auspices of his uncle. Chief 
Justice Nicholas Hyde, he entered as a student at the Middle 
Temple ; that he ever moved in the first ranks of socictv, &o. 

a 5 



252 THE HYDE FAMILY. 

Having defended the honour of the father, E. Duke next de- 
votes a few lines to the vindication of that of the daughter, the 
account concerning whom he confesses " is become a very pre- 
valent error, and sanctioned by many of our later historians.'* 
The real circumstances, Mr. Duke states to be, that Miss Hyde, 
being abroad with the royal family during the exile, as maid of 
honour to the princess royal, attracted the attentions of the 
Duke of York ; and, successfully resisting all attempts on his 
part to assail her virtue, she only assented at last — under the 
perhaps almost venial ambition of a future crown — to the 
honourable union of marriage. This took place privately, in 
the presence of the Earl of Ossory, and was afterwards proved 
to the satisfaction of the king, of the nation, and of her father. 
The latter, so far from being privy to the affair, deeply deplored 
it, prognosticating that it would ultimately ruin himself and his 
house. This marriage was celebrated in November, 1659, and 
their first child, Charles, who died in his infancy, was born in 
October, 1660. 

This is not the place for a family history of the Hydes, but 
as I have inserted that which derogates from the high ideas 
Clarendon's admirers entertain for his memory; and have given 
the contradiction from one of his " family;" it is fair to state 
that Sir Philip Warwick, who knew him well, says, "he was 
cheerful, active, industrious, and confident in his abilities, which 
were sound. He was agreeably eloquent, both with his tongue 
and pen, although his written style was a little too redundant." 
The Duke of Ormond, from his youth, till death separated them, 
was the intimate friend of Clarendon. Carte says he was " a 
man so accomplished that he had either no enemies, or only 
such as were ashamed to profess they were so." The author of 
the Continuation of his Autobiography says, '* he was looked 
upon amongst those lords who were least inclined to the court, 
and so most acceptable to the people. He was not only an exact 
observer of justice, but so clear-sighted an observer of all the 
circumstances which might disguise it, that no false colour 
could impose upon him." The same able writer testifies to the 
earl's piety, loyalty, and courage. Burnet thought not so highly 
of him ; nevertheless, he calls him " a good chancellor, only a 
little too rough, but very impartial in the administration of 
justice." His conduct, said by another judicious biographer to 
be virtuous in the extreme, became so suspected that the king, 
in 1667, dismissed him from the office of chancellor. Impeach- 
ment immediately followed, but he fled to France, and conse- 
quently an act of banishment was passed against him. From 
Rouen he retired to Eyreux, in 1668, where, one night, he was 
attacked by a body of English seamen, who dragged him from 
his bed into the yard, and were going to dispatch him, had not 



DEATH OF CLARENDON. 263 

their lieutenant arrived in the midst of the violent scuffle, and 
saved his life. 

He afterwards went to Montpellier, and then returned to 
Moulins in 1672, and the next year settled at Rouen, where he 
died, December 9. His body was brought to England, and 
interred in Henry the Seventh's chapel in Westminster Abbey. 
By some his disgrace and dismissal are attributed to the ridicule 
of Buckingham and Charles's other dissipated favourites, who 
amused their licentious monarch by mimicking the personal 
consequence of the chancellor. While with a pair of bellows 
before him to represent the purse, and a fire-shovel for the mace, 
Buckingham thus insulted the dignity of Clarendon, Charles 
shamefully forgot in the jest the services of his faithful and loyal 
servant ; and listened with greater pleasure to the vile insinua- 
tions of his concubines than he respected the integrity, the 
wisdom and the virtues of the friend of his father, and the sup- 
porter of his throne. His son and successor, Henry, at one 
time became viceroy of Ireland ; but refusing to take the oaths 
of allegiance to William he was for a short time imprisoned ; 
after which he retired to the country, where he spent the re- 
mainder of his days in peace and privacy, dying in 1709, aged 
71. The second son of the first earl became eminent; and 
through various political changes, filled the offices of master of 
the robes, ambassador to Poland, and plenipotentiary at Nime- 
guen. He became first lord of the treasury in 1679, was raised 
to the peerage in 1681, as Viscount Hyde, and afterwards Earl 
of Rochester. In 1684 he was president of the council, lord 
treasurer and knight of the garter. In 1700 he was lord-lieute- 
nant of Ireland. Under Anne he was again president of the 
council; and in 1711 he died deservedly respected. The family 
of Clarendon is extinct; for the present earl of that name is of 
the Buckingham family, descended from Barbara Villiers, one 
of Charles's many concubines. 



261 THE FRENCH INVADE PIEDMONT. 



SECTION V. 



The Dauphin commands an army in Germany — Infamy of Louis as re- 
gards cruelties in the Palatinate — A new pope — Death of Louvois — 
Waldeck — Louis desires peace — Catinat — Luxembourg — Luxury and 
vanity of Louis XIV. — Battles of Steenkirk and Landen— French testi- 
mony to the merit of William III. — Starvation in France — Namur — 
Remarkable exploit and death of Luxembourg — Indian possessions of 
France — The buccaneers at Tortuga, the Cayos, Cape Tiburon, Panama, 
Chagre, Porto-Bello, Jamaica, &c. — Distress of France drives them to 
make fresh overtures for peace — Peace of Ryswick — Charles VI. of 
Lorraine — Death of Sobieski, King of Poland — Election of a new king 
— A general peace — Peter the Great — Goes to Holland, England and 
Austria, whence he is hurried to Moscow by a rebellion — Frightful pu- 
nishments — Charles XII. of Sweden — Peter and the kings of Poland 
and Denmark join to attack Sweden — Defeated — Russian resignation — 
Anticipations from the death of Charles II. of Spain — Intrigues — Final 
appointment of Philip V. — Declining state of William III. — Gradual 
drawing together of European powers to humble France — Another 
pope — Arrival and first measures of the new King of Spain — Great 
treats prepared for Louis XIV. and Philip V. — Spanish pride and indo- 
lence — A sheep's-eye cast at church property — Marriage of Philip to 
Maria Louisa, daughter of the Duke Savoy — Intrigues and surveillance 
— Agonies of the queen and court at the king's becoming bald — Philip 
at Naples — Treated with miracles — Distress of Philip. 

The manifesto of Louis XIV. against the emperor produced 
important consequences. Suspecting that the Duke of Savoy 
had allied himself by a secret treaty with the emperor, France 
forced him to declare it : and then required he would put Turin 
and Montmelian in their hands. This, in fact, was little less 
than to make him a vassal prince: he therefore refused, and the 
French sent an army to take possession of Savoy. They march- 
ed into Piedmont before the duke could prepare ; and his only 
resource was to ask aid from Holland and England. The em- 
pire was already embarrassed by the loss of Belgrade and other 
damage at the hands of Turkey ; and from having elsewhere to 
encounter the force of Louis, who had sent an army of 100,000 
men into Germany, under the dauphin. That prince was 27 
years of age, and greatly resembled his mother in the sweetness 
of his disposition, and the modesty of his behaviour. Louis 
had abstained from entrusting him with command till assured, 
from his temper and other qualifications, that he would not make 



CHARACTER OF THE DAUPHIN. 265 

a bad use of it. At his departure, on September 22, 1688, the 
king said to him in public : " My son, in sending you to com- 
mand my armies, I give you an opportunity to display your 
merit : go, and show it to all Europe; so that, when I shall des- 
cend into my grave, I may appear to be still living in you." A 
commission was made out for his command in the same manner 
as if he had been any other general whom the king had chosen, 
directed to him thus : " To our son the dauphin, our lieutenant- 
general and commander of our armies in Germany." Every 
arrangement, Voltaire informs us, was made to preclude the 
fear of any disaster in a campaign honoured by the name and 
presence of the son of Louis XIV. 

The Marshal de Duras, in reality, commanded the army. 
Boufflers headed a body of troops on this side the Rhine ; and 
Marshal d'Humieres was posted with another towards Cologne. 
Heidelberg and Mentz were taken: the siege of Philipsburg 
was commenced by Vauban, under whom was Catinat as lieu- 
tenant-general, a courageous and able man. His royal highness 
arrived six days after the trenches were opened. He imitated 
the conduct of his father, exposing himself to danger when ne- 
cessary, with intrepidity, without rashness ; being liberal to the 
soldiers, and affable to every body. The king felt a sincere joy 
in having a son who imitated, without eclipsing, him, and who, 
without raising the jealousy of his father, made himself univer- 
sally beloved, says Voltaire. Mr. James informs us that, from 
all he could gather, so far from coming up to this florid descrip- 
tion, the dauphin displayed neither the talents of his father, nor 
the virtues and sound judgment of his own son. However, he 
was renowned for hunting wolves, and catching weasels in a 
barn ! Philipsburg was taken in 19 days, Manheim in three, 
and Frankendal in two. Spires, Treves, Worms, and Oppen- 
heim, surrendered as soon as the French appeared before them. 

Another indelible spot was fixed on the character of Louis. 
He resolved to reduce the palatinate to a desert, rather to 
cut off all subsistence from his enemies, as his apologists say, 
than to revenge himself on the elector-palatine, who had only 
done what was natural and just, in leaguing with the rest of 
Germany against France. It makes one's blood curdle to think 
on the heartless cruelty that can devote whole districts to 
slaughter and destruction ! — but we must try to leave the ad- 
justment to One who will judge with righteous judgment. It is 
of little use to rebel against that which He permits, although 
we may condemn the wickedness and brutality of these con- 
querors of the earth. The abominable Louvois, now hardened 
in crime, signed an order from the king to reduce all to ashes. 
That rich and fertile district had recovered from the devastation 
ofTurenne; the towns had been repaired, and were then flov- 



2C6 VILE CRUELTY OF THE FRENCH. 

rishing. To them, to the villages, and to above 50 castles, the 
French generals now sent notice that they must immediately 
quit their habitations — though, at the time, it was the worst of 
the winter — for that all was to be destroyed by fire and sword ! 
Men, women, and children, accordingly moved off in the utmost 
trepidation : some wandered about in the fields, and others 
took refuge in the neighbouring countries. The soldiery, who 
generally exceed the orders of severity, and come short of 
those of clemency, burnt and sacked the country of this wretch- 
ed people. 

They began with Manheim, the houses and palaces of which 
they rased to the ground. Nay, the very graves were ransacked 
by the rapacious soldiery, who even disturbed the ashes of the 
dead in their search for plunder. In Turenne's time, the atro- 
cities committed here for ever shaded an otherwise respectable 
follower of the horrible art of war ; but now so inhuman was 
the conduct of the French that one of their own historians con- 
fesses the flames that Turenne had lighted up were but sparks 
in comparison of this terrible destruction, which horrified all 
Europe ! Well may that writer say that " when the king signed 
the destruction of a whole country, he was seated in his own 
palace, surrounded with pleasures ; had he viewed the affair 
himself, it must have filled him with the utmost horror. Na- 
tions, who had hitherto only blamed, whilst they admired his 
ambition, now exclaimed aloud against his barbarity ; and highly 
condemned his policy ; for if his enemies could have penetrated 
into his dominions, after his own example, they would have 
reduced his towns to ashes." 

The conduct of Louis had justified in the eyes of the world 
the accusations of William III. relative to his inordinate am- 
bition, and roused the European powers to resistance. The 
French king having, in Dec. 1688, declared war against Hol- 
land, the league of Augsburg had taken judicious precautions. 
The Dutch, the Spaniards, the Germans, were fast collecting 
powerful armies, of which Charles V., Duke of Lorraine, alone 
commanded 100,000. Assisting the Duke of Brandenburg, he 
retook Bonn and Metz ; Baron d'Asfield, the commander of the 
former, being killed in the assault. The Marquis d'Uxelles so 
ably conducted the defence that he made 2 1 sallies during seven 
weeks, in which some thousands of the enemy were killed ; and 
at last they only surrendered for want of powder. But, though 
his conduct was really courageous, the multitude who, says 
Voltaire, " with so many tongues, and so many ears, has so few 
eyes, condemned him." He was hooted and hissed by the peo- 
ple at the theatre, who assailed him with cries of "Mentz!" 
He withdrew, but had sense enough to despise their malignity 
and ignorance. 



A NEW POPE. 267 

The pope, Ottoboni, who about a year and a half before had 
succeeded Innocent, under the title of Alexander VIII., now died. 
Louis had been upon better terms with this pontiff than with 
his predecessor ; and in return he had promoted some of the 
French king's protegees to the purple, which had greatly irri- 
tated the emperor. Yet he had refused to grant bulls for those 
whom Louis had named to the vacant bishoprics in France, as 
they had in 1682 signed the formulary declaring the pope fal- 
lible and subject to general councils. As death approached, Alex- 
ander passed a bull in due form, confirming all pope Innocent's 
bulls — this precluded reconciliation with France. After a long 
and stormy election, indeed five months were consumed in the 
squabble, Anthony Pignatelli, a noble Neapolitan, under the 
title of Innocent XII., was raised to the tiara, in 1691. He 
issued a bull against the system, adopted by his predecessors, 
of paying particular honours to the relations of popes, and 
condemned the " Maxims of the Saints," written by Fenelon. 
He proved a beneficent father to the people. In accordance 
with his professions, when one of his nearest kindred, who then 
was under the King of Spain in Flanders, hurried to Rome upon 
Innocent's elevation, he received him kindly enough, but dis- 
missed him with no other present than some snuff. 

Louvois also had by this time passed away from the scene of 
his ambition, his cruelty and his crimes, leaving an unenviable 
reputation for barbarity, both in the Palatinate and towards 
the poor dissenters extruded by the revocation of the edict of 
Nantes, at which the mind sickens. For the frightful extent of 
his barbarity his name is entitled to a niche in the temple of 
fame with such monsters as Nero, Caligula, and the rest of those 
who were drunk with the blood of the saints. As regards his 
actions, a worse could only be found in that master who, having 
the power to prevent, abetted, or permitted such deeds of horror 
and darkness. By reading the memoirs of the Duke de Navailles 
we see how this inhuman minister contrived to gloat over these 
sufferings of the righteous, and add insult and mockery to their 
sorrows. This bold bad man, though generally called Louvois, 
of which he was marquis, was named Francis Michel le Tellier : 
he was born at Paris, January 18, 1641, and inherited from his 
wicked father the thirst for persecution (see p. 174). We have 
witnessed his inattention to business in early life — his change 
in this respect — and his promotion after Colbert's death. In his 
various offices and duties he showed great abilities, and proved 
of signal use to his royal employer, whether as purveyor to his 
armies or his harem. Destitute of either the fear of God or 
man, Louvois pursued a splendid course, according to the com- 
mon and corrupt notions, being devoted to the glory of France, 
which he served with promptitude, secrecy, and spirit. Having 



288 DEATH OF LOUVOIS. 

been instrumental in the promotion of De Montespan, his in- 
fluence had waned with her fall; and through his pride and arro- 
gance he made himself enemies in all directions, particularly 
among some of the marshals of France. And as the vile instruc- 
tions he had given relative to the ravages in the Palatinate had 
brought down on France the odium of Europe, although the 
shameful orders of Louvois had been countersigned by the king, 
it now suited Louis' purpose to pretend anger with his heartless 
minister ; and he availed himself of some unauthorised instruc- 
tions Louvois had given, whereby BoufHers had been misled to 
bombard Liege ; and complaints of the Duke of Savoy as to 
Louvois' conduct having placed him in a juxta-position with 
France ; together with some unjustifiable acts, that in other cir- 
cumstances would have passed unnoticed, to rebuke his once 
favourite minister at a levee. This so operated on the mind of 
Louvois that he was seized with illness even while the king was 
speaking ; and as " the sorrow of the world worketh death," on 
his return home, growing worse, they attempted to bleed him in 
both arms, but the mortified marquis died of vexation and grief 
within a few minutes, July 16, 1691. 

Louis had opened a conference at the Hague, which he now 
suddenly broke off, in person besieging Mons. The towns- 
men forced the governor to capitulate. William III. was in 
Flanders to command his army. That of Germany was com- 
manded by Waldeck, who distinguished himself against the 
French, under the Marshal d'Humieres ; and, leading only 
18,000 men, stopped the noted Duke of Luxembourg. The 
duke was marching with 40,000 to surprise Brussels, and Wal- 
deck so posted his army as to cause Luxembourg to believe him 
to be in greater strength ; thus affording time to William to 
hasten with his army, not only to cover Brussels, but to relieve 
Liege, that had been bombarded for two days. 

Marshal BoufHers drew off, and the French declining to fight 
a pitched battle, which William III. did all he could to lead 
them to, little was done in the Low Countries during this cam- 
paign. William stood under a particular tree on one occasion ; 
the enemy, observing him, levelled a cannon so exactly that the 
tree was shot down two minutes after the king was gone. The 
French hired a traitor to fire the powder magazine of the Dutch ; 
this wretch fired the matches of three bombs, two of which blew 
up without doing any mischief. There were 24 more bombs in 
the same wagon, and a barrel of gunpowder ; the vile attempt 
was discovered at the moment the match was lighted, and 
before it had taken effect. The mischief would not have been 
confined to the horrid destruction of those around, but, in the 
panic resulting from the explosion, the French reckoned on cut- 
ting off the whole army. William now retired to England, 



THE ELECTOR OF BRUNSWICK. 269 

leaving the armies under Waldeck, who was reflected on for an 
incautious march, of which Luxembourg took advantage. But 
Waldeck recovered himself, and, after a severe action, the 
French retreated, losing more men than the allies. Auver- 
querque commanded the body that performed this immediate 
service. Luxembourg had become one of the most renowned 
generals in Europe, and in many respects resembled the great 
Conde, under whom indeed he had been trained in the art of 
war. He was of an enterprising spirit, showing genius, but 
unrestrained and irregular ; addicted to perpetual amorous in- 
trigues, though of an ugly countenance and deformed person. 

Turning to Hungary, we find that the Emperor's affairs took 
a more favourable turn. In an attack, under Prince Louis of 
Baden, upon the Turks, the latter were quite routed ; they lost 
the greater part of their army, camp, and cannon, the grand 
vizier himself being killed. The emperor now could have made 
a satisfactory peace, but, flushed with this success, and infatu- 
ated by prophecies that he should go on from one conquest to 
another till he arrived at Constantinople, this prince, outwitted 
by the French, who had thus contrived to turn his credulity 
to account, neglected the means of strengthening his empire 
against the formidable power of France. Louis pressed Sweden 
to offer mediation for a peace, but the king wrote to the Duke 
of Hanover, that he would take no part in the matter till France 
should own the present government of England. Hanover, 
which had been under French influence, now entered into a 
treaty with the King of England and the Emperor, promising 
great things if he could be made an elector. Difficulties arose 
from its being thought by the court of Vienna that this would 
strengthen protestant power. It took a year before the in- 
vestiture was given, with the title of Elector of Brunswick and 
great marshal of the empire ; this of course met with all imagin- 
able opposition from France. In the year 1667, in sight of the 
king at the siege of Lisle, Catinat had performed an exploit 
which called forth courage and skill, being watched by Louis— 
from that his success in life is to be dated. He had quitted the 
bar at the age of 23, in disgust at the unjust termination of a 
good cause. He was of such ability and application, and so 
unmoved by the vanities of a court, that he would have done 
well in diplomacy, war, or in any profession to which he might 
have addicted himself. Exhibiting neither pride nor selfishness, 
he was ignorant of amorous or other courtly intrigues. Having 
joined the army many years before, his qualifications had raised 
him to the command in Italy. 

In Victor Amedeus, Duke of Savoy, Catinat met an opponent 
equal in wisdom and policy, and well known to have been 
schooled in misfortunes. Active and vigilant, Victor was a strong 



270 THE BATTLE OF FLEURUS. 

disciplinarian ; courageous and hardy, lie well knew the nature 
of warfare in rocky and mountainous countries. Yet, eminent 
as he became, he was not free from misconduct as a prince, nor 
always without error as a general. At the battle of Saluces, 
the ill disposition of Victor's army was taken instant advantage 
of by Catinat, who lost only 300 French, while 4,000 were slain 
under the duke. Savoy may be said then to have been sub- 
jected, and the victorious French general marched into Pied- 
mont, forced the trenches near Susa, took Villa-franca, Montal- 
ban, Nice, Veillane, Carmagnole, and, finally, though defended 
with obstinacy, Montmelian. The young Duke of Schomberg 
had undertaken to relieve that place, under the assurance that 
many protestants in Dauphine would join him. But Cafrrara, 
who led the imperial army, was intent on raising contributions; 
and indeed, both he and the court of Turin seemed more afraid 
of heresy than of France. They therefore preferred letting 
this important place fall into the hands of the enemy, to suffer- 
ing it to be relieved by those they did not like. He was re- 
called, upon strong complaints, and Caprara was sent to dis- 
place Caffrara. Louis had sent orders for Catinat's forces to be 
diminished, while the Duke of Savoy strengthened himself, and 
the French were compelled to act on the defensive. Having at 
length received re-inforcements, he descended from the Alps 
to Marseilles, and there gained a second pitched battle : his 
" glory " was increased, as Prince Eugene of Savoy was one of 
the enemy's commanders. 

In the Low Countries, Luxembourg, gained the battle of 
Fleurus : the allies were commanded by Waldeck. The victory 
was such that the French took prisoners 8,000, after killing 
6,000 ; 200 of the allies' standards, with all their artillery and 
their baggage, were also taken : in short, the army was de- 
stroyed. Such was the devotion and genius of William III. 
that even Voltaire, who generally speaks most unfavourably of 
him, acknowledges that he was so fruitful in resources as often 
to draw more advantage out a defeat than the French could 
from victory. He soon after appeared at the head of as nu- 
merous an army to oppose Luxembourg. The feebleness of 
the Spanish government in Flanders threw all defence on the 
allies ; and at last they offered to give it up to William, either 
as King of England, or as Stadtholder of the United Provinces. 
But he well knew the excessive bigotry of that people to their 
religion, and, that they would not be contented under a pro- 
testant government ; he therefore declined it, and advised that 
the Elector of Bavaria should be appointed. Spain was agree- 
able, and, although difficulties arose, they were conquered by 
the court of Vienna ; and thus a fresh animation was infused 
into these miserable provinces. 



VANITY Q¥ LOUIS. 271 

Louis himself had occasionally visited Flanders, and at- 
tended at some of the sieges ; but soon departed for Versailles, 
leaving Luxembourg to carry on the war. This campaign 
terminated in a grand display by the French at Leuses, attended 
by great success. The French now took Namur, a place of vast 
importance : it was alleged that it was owing to the king him- 
self, and was the greatest action of his life. After the surrender 
of Namur, the king went back to Paris like another Darius — 
for he always brought the splendour of a Persian camp with 
him. That he might turn from the bristling front of war to 
the softness and luxury of Parisian life, he was accompanied by 
a selection from his harem ; with the music, poems, and scenes 
for operas and balls, &c. ; in all of which entertainments him- 
self and his actions formed the theme of applause. Reminding 
one of the visit of his ambassador to Hampton Court, who ex- 
pressed his astonishment at no decoration nor commemoration 
of William III. being seen ; contrasting such plainness and 
modesty with the tinsel of gilded columns and decorations, in 
which his master appeared every where ; when he was told that 
William had sense and taste enough to let his actions speak 
for themselves. The egregious vanity of le Grand Monarque, 
even in old age, caused his own portrait to be universally adopt- 
ed on the ceilings, in the representation of clouds, between 
little wings, to represent cherubs ! So that it was Louis here, 
Louis there, and Louis every where. Vetat! c'est moi, he had 
once characteristically observed. 

An attack on the French at Steenkirk, by ten batallions, 
who manifested great bravery, ended fatally, owing to their not 
being properly supported ; but the loss of the French was very 
great. The disgrace to the allied arms was laid upon Count 
Solms ; he was unsuitable to command the English, whose pride, 
rebelling against the rule of a foreigner, rendered them re- 
fractory. We sustained fearful loss of men and officers in this 
disastrous action. Count Horn was appointed to the command 
of several places now taken from the French ; and as he was 
little esteemed, the English were further disgusted at seeing the 
Dutch preferred, while they were neglected. Horn soon aban- 
doned Dixmuyde discreditably, and the Flanders' campaign was 
only distinguished on the part of the allies by the loss of 
Namur; the depreciation of William's reputation at Steenkirk; 
and the increasing ill feeling between the English and the 
Dutch. On the Rhine, two small armies had acted separately 
under the Landgrave of Hesse, and the Marquis of Bareith — 
they proved unable to protect Germany. Another army under 
the Duke of Wirtemberg was totally defeated in defending his 
country ; the duke, the cannon, and the baggage, all falling into 
the hands of the French. An attempt to make a peace between 



272 SUCCESS OF LUXEMBOURG. 

Germany and Turkey was foiled by French intrigue ; and our 
ambassador, then returning, showed William III. that his best 
policy was to send a powerful fleet into the Mediterranean to 
destroy the French trade, and prevent their commerce with 
Turkey. 

In Savoy the French were now losing ground. Luxembourg 
proceeded to besiege Huy, which capitulated in two or three 
days. At Landen, Luxembourg, being twice as strong, attacked 
William, who was censured for not having taken greater pre- 
cautions, considering the superiority of the enemy. However, 
he sent away the baggage and heavy cannon to Mechlin, and 
spent the night in planting batteries, &c. On July 29, 1693, 
the French began their attack early in the morning; they were 
frequently repulsed, but by coming on with fresh bodies, from 
strength and undaunted courage, they broke through the Ger- 
man and Spanish horse, so that the troops gave way, and the 
French were again victors. But the fight was so obstinate that 
20,000 men were killed on the spot— perhaps as many on one 
side as on the other. Voltaire wittily remarks that the French 
ought rather to have chanted De profundis than TeDeum! A 
brave foe always should be just to his enemy; the French ho- 
nourably testified to the merit of William; and, in admiring 
the coolness of his retreats, and the promptitude of his ener- 
getic efforts to re-establish his armies, they confessed all these 
victories procured them more " glory" than advantage; and 
that though beaten in these battles, the allies had not been ef- 
fectually worsted. 

Luxembourg had been so eminently successful, and sent so 
many of the enemy's colours to Paris, that the Prince of Conti 
named him "the upholsterer of Notre Dame." Nothing was 
talked of but victories ; and woe to a country led to follow such 
false lights ! If, formerly, Louis had conquered Holland and 
Flanders without a battle — their own historians startle at his 
inability, after all these grand efforts and bloody victories, to 
penetrate the United Provinces, or to besiege Brussels. At 
Steinkirk and Landen, Luxembourg had been accompanied by 
the Duke of Chartres (afterwards regent of the kingdom), then 
only 15, who led the household troops, and, though wounded, 
would not retire. A grandson and a great nephew of the im- 
mortal Conde, also served as lieutenant-generals. One was 
Louis, Duke of Bourbon, the other Armand, Prince of Conti. 
Another lieutenant-general was the Duke of Vendome, grandson 
of Henry IV. ; he had served at 12 years of age, and now was 
40 : he was accompanied by his brother, the grand prior. 

All these princes headed the household troops, and were set 
to dislodge the English, who, Voltaire says, were the best troops 
in the world, and only to be equalled, if at all, by these picked 



FRANCE WEAKENED BY SUCCESS. 273 

men. The English were finally defeated by the immense 
slaughter of greatly superior force. If William retired, he was 
still feared — nor would he quit the field. In characteristic hu- 
mour, the ladies came out to meet the young princes and the 
flower of French nobility on their return. Their bravery was 
complimented by the fashion being set of wearing neckcloths 
thrown on something like a whisp of hay, which, in their hurry 
for the battle, the officers had been compelled to do ! In short, 
the Parisians may safely adopt for their motto — Semper eadem. 
In striking contrast with Gallic lightness, should be mentioned 
the gravity and coolness of William. Charging in several places, 
he was in the midst of those who fell from the enemy's cannon : 
one musket shot carried away part of his scarf, another went 
through his hat — but he was preserved uninjured. His dignified 
conduct called forth from Louis the remark that, if Luxem- 
bourg's behaviour was like that of Conde, that of William III. 
was like Turenne's. 

In Spain, the Marshal de Noailles gained a victory at Ter, 
May 27, 1694; he took several places, but, requiring strength, 
he could not support himself as could be wished, and he was 
obliged to retire before Barcelona. Voltaire has a sententious 
remark here : u the French, victorious on all sides, and weaken- 
ed with success, found the allies to be a hydra, always springing 
up afresh." Recruits and money could with difficulty be raised. 
France was afflicted by two bad harvests, their vintage suffered 
much, and, having neither bread nor wine, they had little else 
but " glory" to feed upon. To the praise of the French king it 
should be recorded (as I have elsewhere on a similar occasion), 
that he caused the greatest diligence to be used in fetching corn 
from all parts. Strict regulations were observed in furnishing 
the markets, and a liberal distribution he ordered to be made to 
the poor. Burnet here quaintly remarks, " but misery will be 
misery still, after all possible care to alleviate it." Amidst all 
the pomp of their victories, great multitudes literally perished 
for want ; and the spirit, and ideas of superiority fostered by 
their vanity, which was the soul of the French people, were fast 
sinking. They called out for peace, but the northern powers 
would not mediate. In William they had to deal with one who 
rightly appreciated them, and was determined never to lay down 
his arms till their insolence had been duly chastised, and a gua- 
rantee secured for the safety of the protestant cause. Added to 
this, their demands were too high, and there seemed no hope of 
a just peace until farther humiliations had brought the French 
to a humbler posture. 

The English are alleged to have been the first who used the 
art of bombarding maritime towns with fire ships ; this infernal 
art, as Voltaire justly calls it, had been afterwards turned too 



274 WILLIAM TAKES NAMUR. 

often against themselves. They had bombarded Dieppe, U avre- 
de-Grace, St. Malo, Dunkirk and Calais. But the balance of 
the campaign was in favour of France. One of the Jacobite 
party informed the French that we had a very rich fleet of mer- 
chantmen ready to start for the Mediterranean, valued at many 
millions. Some had waited 18 months for a convoy, and the 
number was increasing ; the merchants kept complaining about 
the delay, and the inefficient convoy appointed. The French 
were watching, and made many feints. Admiral Rook was to 
command it, and went out into the main sea with the convoy, 
and, when the merchant ships were thought out of danger, they 
came back. He doubled the Cape of St. Vincent, and almost 
fell in with the French fleet before he was aware of it. The 
French soon perceived their error in apprehending the whole 
English fleet was there, and were forming themselves into a 
line, when Rook stood out to sea. Some of the merchantmen 
followed Rook, others sailed to Cadiz, some got to Gibraltar, 
some were burnt or sunk, and a small number taken by the 
French, who did not follow Admiral Rook, but let him sail away 
to the Madeiras. The French then sailed along the coast of 
Spain, and burnt some English and Dutch ships at Malaga, 
Aiicant. and other places. Tourville was reflected on for not 
making the most of his advantages, which were such that few of 
our merchantmen or men-of-war should have escaped. 

The French had amused themselves at the expense of Wil- 
liam III., for his having failed to relieve Namur, with so large 
an army as he commanded; and, of course, as much flattered 
Louis for its capture. The tables were now turned, for the 
King of England attacked that place in the sight of a greatly 
superior force, and took it, after the manner the enemy had 
themselves adopted. He had the benefit of all Vauban's new 
fortifications after he had re-possession of Namur. Villeroi 
had endeavoured to detach William from this siege by a coun- 
ter-attack on Brussels. Without a chance of taking that city, 
he for three days bombarded it, destroying thereby a great part: 
he then withdrew, and arrived just in time to witness the sur- 
render of Namur. The laurels of William were considered very 
great, as the French, to the amount of 80,000 according to 
some — Voltaire owns 100,000 — were almost in sight, and the 
garrison was in fact an army, BoufHers having thrown himself 
into that strong city, with so many regiments as to raise the 
force to 16,000. That able general was blameless — and, al- 
though party writers have blackened his reputation, those who 
better understood the matter acquitted him, seeing that he did 
all that a good commander could do. He was made prisoner, 
but soon after liberated, having secured the good opinion of 
William ; he lived to a distant period, eminently to serve his 



DEATH OF THE DUKE OF LUXEMBOURG. 275 

country. Marshal Villeroi was prevented from successfully 
bringing up his large army, to raise the siege, by various mas- 
terly manoeuvres of the King of England ; for his inability to 
ward off this shameful disgrace to the French arms he was 
severely reflected upon. 

In the year 1695, the Duke of Luxembourg died. Having 
exhibited very great skill in manoeuvring with William, he was 
however defeated by the superior and surprising tact of the 
king, who thus attained his object of out-marching the French 
armies, so as to reach Flanders first, in order to seize upon 
Courtrai. Luxembourg just after that, within four days tra- 
versed a tract of 40 or 50 leagues, outstripping the enemy, and 
reaching the Scheldt time enough to frustrate their schemes. 
Military men consider this a prodigious exploit ; and it proved 
his last — for the marshal went to Paris, and died unexpectedly 
on Jan. 4> to the grief and dismay of the French army. Francis 
Henry de Montmorenci, this famous general, was the posthu- 
mous son of Montmorenci, Count of Bouteville, who was be- 
headed for fighting a duel, under Louis XIII. The marshal 
had been trained under Conde, and was with him at Rocroi 
when only 15 years old; and, having followed his fortunes, he 
imbibed much of his coolness and ardour. He was distin- 
guished at the conquest of Franche-Comte in 1668 ; in the 
Dutch campaigns of 1672, he performed an unprecedented re- 
treat with only 20,000, in the face of 70,000 men. In 1675, he 
was appointed marshal, and he acquired fresh laurels at Fleurus, 
over Prince Waldeck, in 1690. In 1691, we have witnessed 
his success at Leusen, Steinkirk, and Nerwinde; indeed, his 
whole career was successful and splendid. 

On the subject of the Indian possessions of Europeans there 
are in Voltaire some remarks so excellent that I need scarcely 
apologize for quoting that which is honourable to this emi- 
nent author, while it ought to cause a blush of shame to every 
Briton, though penned as a reproach to the French. " It is now 
two centuries since the restless spirit of the Europeans, not 
contented to confine their fury within their own continent, has 
carried the desolations of war to the most distant countries. 
We now drain ourselves of money and men, to go to destroy 
one another in the remotest parts of Asia and America. The 
Indians, whom we have obliged by force or artifice, to receive 
our settlements ; and the Americans, of whom we have butcher- 
ed such numbers, driving others from their possessions ; look 
upon us as enemies of the human race, who come from the far- 
thest parts of the world to cut their throats, and then to plunge 
our swords in each others' bosoms." The Dutch had easily taken, 
from the French, Pondicherry, which was established at enor- 
mous cost by Colbert; and thus their favourite scheme of Indian 



276 THE FIRST BUCCANEERS. 

commerce was there strangled in its infancy. The English had 
destroyed their settlement at St. Domingo ; the privateers of 
St. Malo had likewise carried fire and sword into their New- 
foundland possessions. Jamaica had been harrassed by the 
French ; our vessels had been burnt, and our coasts there plun- 
dered. Commodore Pointis, with many of the French ships, 
helped by American corsairs, went to surprise the town of Car- 
thagena, the grand Spanish magazine. He destroyed property 
to the amount of 20,000,000 of livres, and, what in vulgar life 
would be called, stole goods to the amount of 10,000,000 ; but, 
in these "glorious expeditions" as a French writer calls them, 
we must dignify these transactions by the milder expression — 
that the French gained 10,000,000. Let us mark the sequel — 
those that live by the sword often die by the sword — u the result 
of these expeditions was universal calamity." 

The first Buccaneers were natives of France. The term was 
adopted from the Carib Indians, who called the flesh they pre- 
pared boucan, and the hut in which it was dried on hurdles took 
the same name. The French themselves called such despera- 
does flibustiers, probably a corruption of our word free-booters. 
The Dutch named such sea-rovers : others used the term the 
brethren of the coast — till all the distinctive epithets merged into 
the one term "Buccaneers." These worthies acted in the capa- 
cities of privateers in war, and in times of peace their activity 
followed the occupation of hunting, smuggling, or piracy. In 
fact, while threatened and punished by the governments of Eng- 
land and France, they were by them indirectly cherished ; and, 
by their ultimate instrumentality, both nations attained settle- 
ments in the West India Islands, on which they had long cast 
covetous glances. At the commencement of the 17th century, 
by a previous treaty of joint occupation and partition (in 1625), 
England and France on the same day had landed at opposite 
points of St. Christopher's: and neither for one moment re- 
spected the original rights of the Caribs. In the prosecution of 
their schemes, those poor creatures offered all the resistance 
they could think of. The Europeans seem to have soothed any 
portion of conscience, and it was but a small remainder that gave 
them any trouble — by regarding the aborigines as " a barbarous 
sort of people," whom it was necessary to extirpate. Therefore, 
when their implacable enemies retired to intricate thickets, or 
other fastnesses, these " Christians" made use of dogs to scent 
and drive them from their ancient refuges — and then exposed 
them to the sword or the pistol. After having killed these re- 
fractory owners of the soil, because they were impervious to the 
benefits of " civil society," they quartered their bodies, sticking 
them up about the high-ways. As such horrors drove the help- 
less savages to hide in caves and subterraneous retreats, there 



THEIR PIRATICAL ADVENTURES. 277 

they often perished — and travellers attest that they have disco- 
vered heaps of the remnants of human bones. It thus had 
become exceedingly difficult for the natives to discover any great 
advantage in the religion of the cross over their reverence for 
" an unknown God," who in their darkness they thought could 
be propitiated by exclaiming O ! It was a rough course of 
training, this, of these early missionaries. 

The Island of Tortuga had been torn from the Spaniards by 
these buccaneers, where having established their head-quarters, 
all European adventurers made for this Goshen. French and 
English colonists planted settlements on different islands ; the 
new colonists became the allies and customers of these disor- 
derlies, and thus contributed to support their irregular lives. 
Many of the French settlers, indignant at being left unprotected 
by their government, subject to marauding expeditions, retired 
to other deserts, or joined the ranks of the buccaneers. The 
main settlement of Tortuga was enviously regarded by another 
"Christian" nation, Spain; who soon had destroyed the spots of 
comparative civilization, while the settlers were out on one of 
their long hunting excursions on the western shores of Hispa- 
niola. The more peaceful, who, staying behind, attended to the 
cultivation of tobacco, were massacred; those who fled were 
caught and hanged, so that only a mere handful reached their 
distant brethren. The Spaniards, having destroyed this refuge 
of their enemies, abandoned the scenes of their brutality. The 
buccaneers returned, and strengthened themselves by fresh or- 
ganization, and their ranks were recruited by the roving spirits 
of different European countries. 

Their many piratical adventures must be left to the interest- 
ing memoirs which so attracted us in the cheerful days of our boy- 
hood ; and in recording all that seems necessary for the purposes 
of such a work as this, I merely design to convey so much as forms 
a part of history, or elucidates the manners and the deeds of 
the age. These lawless people occupied themselves in seeking 
fruits and fish, lying in wait for the Spanish traders, seizing the 
men, whom they sold as slaves ; while the women were reduced to 
labour, and every degradation. Their dress comported with their 
ferocity, but probably resulted from the same stringency which 
drives the savage to his clothing of skins — or as we say, in 
pleasantry, causes the miller to wear a white hat. It consisted 
of a shirt dipped in the blood of the cattle hunted and killed, 
rough trousers and leggings, a rude cap and a leathern girdle, in 
which to stick knives, daggers and pistols. Such was their idea 
of religion that public prayers were offered up for success in 
their piratical expeditions ! This reminds one of the pious re- 
flections of the old Koord, who consoled his companions, under 
the misery of there being no travellers whom they could slaugh- 

R 



278 THE BLOODY LOLONNOIS. 

ter and rob, by remembrance of the past goodness of Provi- 
dence, and filial trust that He would yet in mercy remember 
them, and grant supplies according to their wants — as, he told a 
Russian captive, He had so long done ! 

They were no ways shocked at bursting into the sacred edi- 
fices of other people, and forcing away their chalices and silver 
images. But so particular was this church in the wilderness 
that they have been known to shoot some of their number for 
irreverent behaviour at public worship ! They were petted by 
the Parisians, who, with characteristic naivete, called them "nos 
braves !" Nor can we claim exemption from the disgrace of 
hounding them on to shameful excesses — for it was in England 
the fashion to speak of their doings, as "unparalleled exploits." 
Those French of Tortuga found it their interest to betray that 
island into the hands of the French governor of the West Indies, 
who took possession on behalf of the crown of France, and 
expelled the English, who had proved coarse and refractory. 
Within a few years the French increased rapidly on the west of 
Hispaniola, and they boast of many brilliant exploits in plun- 
dering the Spanish fleets. Under Pierre Legrand many were 
piloted to fame and fortune. Their success encouraged fresh 
adventurers ; Spain was compelled to arm ships especially for 
protecting their trade in this quarter. 

From plundering merchantmen, they soon proceeded to the 
capture of ships of war ; and, under Pierre Francois, surprising 
deeds were performed. Though sufficient force was often sent 
to capture these lawless corsairs, their stratagems and hair- 
breadth escapes constitute the charm of records vying with the 
extricatings of Jack Sheppard, or any other hero of Newgate. 
In their fearful annals, no names struck greater terror than the 
two Frenchmen, Lolonnois and Montbar, distinguished for com- 
plication of crime which humanity almost shrinks from relating. 
Such as throwing overboard whole crews of captured vessels ; 
at other times with his own hand striking off the heads of 80 
prisoners ; and, as the exertion required refreshment, he sucked 
the blood of his unhappy victims from the dreadful sabre with 
which he perpetrated his atrocities ! Joining forces with other 
ruffians, Lolonnois became strong enough to storm towns — 
pillaging and destroying all before him, and carrying off im- 
mense booty. His end, after a career of infamy, almost incre- 
dible, was to be seized by some Indians — torn limb from limb — 
burnt, and his ashes scattered to the winds. Montbar was a 
" gentleman ;" almost equal to his countryman in ferocity, and 
so celebrated in his infamous career as to obtain the soubriquet 
of "the Exterminator.' 7 

One Morgan, of Wales, became almost as celebrated, and at 
the Cayos (corrupted by the English into the keys) attained 



THEIR SHIPS AND ARMIES. 279 

command of about 12 sail, with above 700 fighting men, English 
and French. They took and plundered Puerto del Principe, in 
Cuba: shutting up many of the inhabitants; numbers were 
starved to death; others were tortured to secure ransom. 
Amidst this shameful success, a dispute arising between the 
English and the French, by reason of an Englishman snatching 
away some marrow-bones from a Frenchman, which want of 
politeness led to a challenge, the Frenchman was traitorously 
stabbed. Morgan's morality was shocked, and he took the 
murderer back, and had him hanged in chains. The national 
animosities led to a division. Shortly afterwards, Morgan con- 
templated an act of treachery, and, having invited a French 
commander and several of his best men to dine with him on 
board a ship, he made them prisoners. The powder caught fire 
from the wild carousal on board, the ship blew up, and 350 
English and French perished in their sins ! Morgan escaped : 
a few days of suspense, for mourning, were set apart ; and after- 
wards the prudent commander caused all the bodies to be fished 
up and stripped of rings, money, and clothes. 

Debarred from following these horrible adventures into much 
farther detail, it may be told that the Spaniards were amazing 
sufferers from them on almost all occasions ; and instances are 
on record — such was the dread of these unlawful rovers — of 
their firing their own ships, and all choosing to perish in the 
conflagration rather than to fall into the hands of these pirates ! 
After their success in plundering, these wretches would retire to 
the taverns at Port Royal, or elsewhere, spending their ill-got 
gains with their dissolute companions, and concerting other 
scandalous expeditions, A treaty between England and Spain, 
in 1670, threatened for ever to put down this crying grievance ; 
therefore, the buccaneers, as a desperate effort, resolved to call 
together all the worthies, who, under the name and occupation 
of hunters, or cultivators, of the English, French, or Dutch, 
nations, were ready to flock round the standard of the redoubt- 
able Morgan. He appointed Tortuga as the rendezvous: the 
fleet was victualled by the pillage of numerous hog-yards, the 
hunters supplied quantities of bouccm, and 37 vessels, manned 
by these incorrigible villains, counting 2,000 fighting men, sailed 
for Cape Tiburon, on the west of Hispaniola. At a council held 
there, it was decided to attack Panama, on account of its amaz- 
ing wealth. Taking on their voyage the strong castle of Chagre, 
at Providence island, by a detachment of 400 men, they learnt 
that the governor of Panama was prepared for their marauding 
attack by a force of 3,600 men. After the usual heart-rending 
scenes of brutality towards the poor women and the prisoners, 
Morgan, leaving a strong garrison there, proceeded with his 
great force, Jan. 1671, to Panama. 



280 SHOCKING BRUTALITY. 

The Spaniards had left no provisions, in any direction, of 
which the invaders could avail themselves ; and as they had to 
traverse a considerable tract on landing, the buccaneers were 
reduced to great straits. Even driven to chew the leathern 
bags as a substitute for better food, over these treasures they 
quarrelled ; and it became matter of serious regret that they 
could catch no stray Spaniards, as they had resolved to have 
boiled and roasted a few to appease their ravening appetites. 
Nor could these terrible brutes have subsisted, but that the 
powers of endurance acquired under their predatory courses 
had become almost superhuman. Finding at length a little 
maize and some plantains, with the soaked leather which re- 
mained, they were subsisted thus miserably on the fifth day ; 
and, seeing the distant smoke of a village, 

Et jam snmma procul villarum culmina fumant, 
Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbree, 

they viewed it as another El Dorado. But on arriving, disco- 
vered, to their dismay, every habitation destroyed by fire, and 
the only remaining dogs and cats fell an immediate sacrifice 
to their ravening wants. They yet had eight leagues to reach 
Panama. 

The vigilant Morgan began a cautious look-out for ambus- 
cades, for which the Spaniards were celebrated ; nor had they 
long to wait before they were covered with a shower of arrows 
from some unseen quarter. Ten of the savage Europeans fell 
before the attack of these Indians. The ninth day of these 
sufferings arrived, and the freebooters, from a high mountain 
descried the sea, and with joy beheld the boats and small ves- 
sels tossing about the concealed port of Panama. They feasted 
by anticipation on the now visible herds of cattle ; and, rapidly 
turning that anticipation into reality, like cannibals they fiew at 
the poor beasts, cutting out pieces with their knives, arid de- 
voured the raw meat, while the blood ran down their beards 
upon their bodies. Refreshed with this disgusting meal, it 
became their object to take some prisoner from whom to gain 
information; but they were disappointed. On catching a 
glimpse of the steeple of the church — whether from its being 
the first object of the longed-for city, or as inviting them soon 
to offer up Te Deum, the historian does not record — " Templa 
quam dilecta " — they became affected to madness, tossing up 
their caps in the air, leaping, shouting, beating their drums, 
and blowing their trumpets. They formed a camp near the 
city for the night: 50 Spanish horsemen, reconnoitring, ad- 
vanced within hearing, and challenged " the dogs " to come 
on — then retiring, they left a few to watch the motions of their 
enemies. The buccaneers made another savage meal; and, 



AWFUL CONFLAGRATION. 281 

lulled by the sound of the Spanish guns — which, in their imper- 
fect knowledge of the art of gunnery, they kept all night firing, 
without producing any other effect than to waste a great deal 
of powder — the band of marauders slept soundly till the dawn 
of clay. 

Astir betimes, with some attempt at order, they took a cir- 
cuitous route to the city, as advised by an Indian guide. On 
discovering their route, the governor presented a formidable 
phalanx to check their progress; and, in addition to this mili- 
tary array, caused an immense herd of wild bulls to be driven 
by Indians among the buccaneers. Too well trained in deeds 
of violence to be dismayed by this unusual warfare, the lawless 
invaders drew up on the top of an eminence, and saw, in beau- 
tiful perspective at their feet, the city and the open country 
around. The Spanish cavalry were disconcerted by the marshy 
ground; and the picked marksmen of the enemy, kneeling 
down, received them with a terrible volley. Others succeeded 
in separating the Spanish troops, while the bulls, frightened by 
the noise of the guns, took to their heels. After a desperate 
encounter, that lasted two hours, the cavalry gave way, and the 
infantry, having expended their ammunition, threw down their 
muskets and fled. All the poor wretches that fell into the 
hands of the buccaneers were barbarously slaughtered; but, 
from an officer whom they saved, intelligence of the defence of 
the Spaniards was obtained, whence they discovered the like- 
liest point of attack. During a pause, after the destruction of 
this first opposing band, the invaders solemnly plighted their 
honour never to yield while a single man remained alive. Ad- 
vancing with their prisoners, they came to close quarters with 
the soldiers in the streets of the town, where it took them three 
hours to maintain their standing. 

In this murderous assault, quarter was neither given nor 
taken, and probably about 600 perished on each side. Morgan 
gave out that all the wine was poisoned, to check their brutal 
tendency to drink — this produced considerable effect. The 
Spaniards fired the town in several places; the attempts to 
check the fury of the flames were abortive, for the houses were 
built of cedar. The inhabitants had previously concealed their 
valuables. The city had consisted of 12,000 houses, eight mo- 
nasteries, and two churches, all richly furnished. The vengeance 
of these brutal men fell with peculiar force on the ecclesiastics ; 
and the awful conflagration caused numbers of poor negroes 
and others to perish in the flames. The Spaniards had with- 
drawn to the neighbouring woods and heights ; the poor crea- 
tures were followed by the marauders, and made to point out 
the wells and cisterns where their treasures were deposited. 
They took some of the Spanish ladies to be their wives ; such 

r 3 



282 DIVISION OF PLUNDER. 

was the ignorance of these females that they were surprised to 
find the English, whom they had been taught to dread more as 
heretics than as thieves, properly formed — as the priests had 
told them they were monsters. If much of the time and atten- 
tion the Spaniards had bestowed on attempts to horrify the 
more deluded, by absurd descriptions of the awful and trans- 
forming effects of heresy, had been directed to more material 
defences, it is probable the horrible outrages committed by 
these members of the reformed church (for they plumed them- 
selves on their protestantism) might have heen prevented. 

Morgan destroyed all their shipping, secured all their plate 
and money, spiked their cannon, and, after having wrung from 
these unfortunates all they could carry away, resolved to de- 
part. To this end, a large number of beasts of burden were 
collected from every quarter where they could be procured; 
and scouts were sent out to ascertain what measures the go- 
vernor had taken to intercept their return. But the depression 
of the Spaniards was too great to have had any preparation for 
punishing these dreadful enemies ; and on the 24th of February 
the buccaneers left the ruins of Panama. Having 175 mules 
laden with their spoils, and above 600 prisoners — women, chil- 
dren, and slaves — driven along by -these abominable wretches, 
the sufferings of the poor captives exceeded all description, or, 
indeed, conception. The women in vain threw themselves at 
Morgan's feet, beseeching the poor mercy of being permitted 
to remain amidst the ruins of their former homes. His reply 
was to the effect that he came there to get money, not to listen 
to cries and lamentations — but that he would grant them three 
days to procure ransom. Some were happy enough to suc- 
ceed — with the remainder he pushed onwards, making new 
prisoners, and gaining fresh spoils on the way. At a suitable 
place, he proposed every one should be searched, to show that 
all the unjust gains had been placed in one common stock ; he 
was the first to submit to this treatment, which shocked the 
sensitive minds of the few French who accompanied them, as 
derogatory to " gentlemen." 

Arrived at Chagre, they knew not what to do with their 
prisoners, and therefore decided to send them off for Porto 
Bello, making them the bearers of a demand for ransom from the 
governor of that city for the castle of Chagre. To this insolent 
message, the governor of Porto Bello replied that Morgan 
might make of the castle what he pleased, not a ducat should 
be given for its ransom. They now set about dividing the 
plunder. As the individual shares fell short of their expectations, 
tfiey grumbled, and accused the chief of the worst crime of 
which in their eyes he could be guilty — secreting the richest of 
the jewels for himself. To each man 200 pieces of eight was 



CLOSE OF MORGAN'S CAREER. 283 

considered a very small return for such a hazardous enterprise. 
He saw the matter taking a serious turn, therefore, consulting 
with a few on whom he could depend, they destroyed the walls 
of Chagre, and carried the guns on board Morgan's own ship. 
Followed by one or two vessels commanded by those in his 
confidence, he then sailed for Jamaica, leaving their duped and 
enraged associates in want of every necessary. All the English 
accompanied Morgan ; the French left behind would have pur- 
sued him, says the quaint old historian — " had they dared 
to venture/' As it was, Morgan's vessels separated, the com- 
panies seeking their fortunes in different parts, and none the 
richer or happier for the devastation they had committed at 
Panama. 

Morgan steered for Jamaica ; laden with plunder, and ele- 
vated by success, he endeavoured to raise recruits for an inde- 
pendent state he longed to establish at Santa Katalina. Of this 
free nation, of course — Sancho-Panza like — he was to be gover- 
nor. But Lord John Vaughan, governor of Jamaica, while he 
proclaimed a grant of land, pardon and indemnity to such of the 
freebooters as chose to become peaceful cultivators, resolved to 
enforce the treaty with Spain. Many preferred joining those 
left at Tortuga, or to become log-wood cutters in the Bay of 
Campeachy. Next year the war, breaking out between Great 
Britain and Holland, enabled these worthies to resume their 
occupation of privateers against the Dutch. In time this clever 
thief, Morgan, acquired sufficient tact to apply his ill-gotten 
wealth to the obtaining of the honour of knighthood at the 
hands of Charles II. (parnobile fratrem) ! and afterwards he was 
appointed deputy-governor of Jamaica. In this function, under 
great severity to his old fraternity, he condescended sometimes 
to share their booty ; nevertheless he caused several of them to 
be hanged, and others he delivered to the Spaniards, receiving 
the rewards for their capture. Such was the just hatred of 
that nation to him that they contrived, after the accession of 
James II., to get him removed from his office, and imprisoned 
in England. 

The freebooters were at length crushed by the express pro- 
hibitions of several countries ; nor was it for a long time that 
these marauding sons of Belial, under one designation or ano- 
ther, were effectually put down. Either as flibustiers, hunters, 
or wood-cutters, they long proved a terror to the western he- 
misphere. At one time their power was such that they took Vera 
Cruz, and other strong places. Of their riches, devotion, and 
loyalty, a curious instance is recorded of one section of them 
who followed the cutting of logwood. Having captured Cam- 
peachy on celebrating the festival of St. Louis, they made bonfires 
of the logwood, or blood-wood, a remarkably valuable product, 



284 LOUIS LONGS FOR PEACE. 

worth d£30 a load — and consumed enough to be valued at£42,000 ! 
Such was their scrupulosity, that Raynal tells us a buccaneer ex- 
postulated with a hunter for compelling him to work on a Sun- 
day, saying, God had forbidden this practice when He gave the 
commandment, " Six days shalt thou labour, and on the seventh 
rest." I hope the interesting nature of the few particulars I have 
been tempted to give of the customs and manners of a race 
long since extinct, (unless we find them merged into the repudia- 
ting, slave-holding clamourers for liberty of North America,) will 
need no apology ; more especially as I was led into so much de- 
tail from the history of French navigation leading at this period 
to those seas. 

The English and the Dutch merchantmen subsequently were 
daily made prizes of by French privateers ; but especially Dugue 
Trouin, a man of singular genius, who wanted only the command 
of fleets to gain the reputation of a Barbarossa. On the other 
hand, the enemy could not take so many of the French merchant- 
men, for a reason given by Voltaire, which I suspect few will dis- 
pute — because they had fewer to lose, as their commerce had so 
materially declined by the war, and the death of Colbert. The 
result of all these expeditions was universal calamity — under 
which France groaned to her centre, while she laid claim to 
superiority over her enemies. So that the achievements in 
Savoy, the Palatinate, on the frontiers of other countries, and at 
sea, while they fed her vanity, produced no lasting benefits. 

And in continuation, we see that Louis' troubled reign finds 
him in arms against the King of Spain, his own nephew ; against 
the Elector of Bavaria, whose sister had married the Dauphin ; 
against the Elector Palatine, his brother's wife's father; Savoy 
warring against France, the duke's daughter being now dauphi- 
iiess, and with Spain, where another daughter was queen ! Wil- 
liam we have seen deposed his father-in-law — happily and wisely 
I think. Still all this shows what war is, in carrying feuds and 
civil discord into the families of Christian princes — slaughtering, 
plundering, and perpetuating intense misery among the millions 
— repressing the best enterprises of men ; in short, in perform- 
ing the work of the prince of darkness. 

Louis must have increasingly felt the necessity of making 
great sacrifices to obtain peace ; as the brightest period of his 
reign, and the beaux jours of his natural life, had gone by. He 
missed such powerful ministers as Colbert, Louvois, and others ; 
and remembered that Turenne, Conde, and Luxembourg were 
no more. Seeing too that the state of the human mind was 
determinately leading to combination for safety or reprisals — 
the Grand Monarque was brought to long for peace, as well as the 
European nations, who had for so long a period been kept in tur- 
moil and distress through the ambitious restlessness of France. 



PEACE OF RYSWICK. 285 

Louis therefore sent the Count de Tesse, clever and agreeable, 
to Turin, privately to sound the Duke of Savoy ; and Catinat 
assisted in bringing the matter to a conclusion. His dominions 
were restored to the duke, money was given him, and arrange- 
ments were soon made whereby the Duke of Burgundy, the 
dauphin's son, was affianced to the duke's daughter. The pope 
anxiously desired to join in this treaty, for the sake of freeing 
Italy from the incursions of the French, and being relieved from 
continual taxation to support the emperor's armies. The em- 
peror's reluctance was at last overcome, the Duke of Savoy 
joined his army to the French, and in less than a month the 
prince became the generalissimo of the emperor as well as of 
Louis XIV. His daughter was carried into France at 1 1 years 
of age, to be married to the Duke of Burgundy but two years 
older. The league being broken by this defection of the Duke 
of Savoy, as the emperor had accepted the neutrality of Italy, 
the allies began to treat for themselves. The Dutch proposed 
the castle of Ryswick, near the Hague, to hold the conferences 
in for the general peace. The armies of France were yet strong: 
Villeroi commanded 80,000 men in Flanders ; De Choiseul was 
at the head of 40,000 on the banks of the Rhine ; Catinat com- 
manded as many in Piedmont ; the Duke of Vendome, who had 
gone through all the different stations in the army, from a volun- 
teer to a commander-in-chief, also led a large army in Catalonia, 
where he had met with great success, and taken Barcelona. 

This position thus left Louis on high ground, and he refused 
the offer of mediation on the part of the pope : that function 
being appointed to the King of Sweden, Charles XL, according 
to Voltaire; but Burnet says the first act of the reign of Charles 
XII. (the celebrated and frantically brave) was the mediation at 
Ryswick. On September 20, 1697, the peace was concluded — 
not with such loftiness as had formerly distinguished Louis XIV. 
People were at first astonished, but a key to the course of his 
policy was to be found in the schemes he had formed towards 
Spain, which monarchy, it was always held, he would do wrong 
to suffer to fall into the Austrian family. Charles II. was 
childless, and by one or two severe attacks his life had been en- 
dangered. As the vast dominions in Europe and America would 
cause a royal scramble in the event of his death, the King of 
France saw that it would best suit his purpose to draw breath — 
to recruit the finances, to replenish the armies, in short, to be 
ready for the expected struggle. Such at least are the opinions 
of most writers on this reign; but it should be told that Voltaire, 
agreeing with the memoirs of the Marquis de Torci, says how 
likely soever the idea may seem, it is not true, and that France 
made peace because she was weary of war. 

Such was the influence of William III. that he obtained ex- 



286 CHARLES VI. OF LORRAINE. 

traordinary benefits for Holland. Spain gained a restoration of 
every thing in Catalonia, large tracts in Flanders, comprising the 
frontier towns of Luxembourg, Charleroi, Mens, Courtrai, Ath, 
and the Country of Chimei. The towns of Fribourg, Brissae, 
Kheil, and Phiiipsburg, were restored to -the emperor. Louis 
also agreed to demolish the fortifications of Strasbourg on the 
Rhine, Port Louis, Fraerbach and Mount Royal, works on which 
Vauban had exhausted his art and the treasures of France. 
The unjust decrees of the chambers of Brissae and Metz (see 
p. 156) were abolished. William III. was now by France, for 
die first time, acknowledged lawful King of Great Britain. In 
short, all Europe was astonished at the moderation of France. 
That country was indignant at her " glory" being tarnished by 
agreeing to a peace as if she had been conquered. Harlai, Creel, 
and Callieres, who had signed it, durst neither show themselves 
at court nor in the city — they were loaded with reproaches for 
having betrayed the honour of France by nobles and people. 
As if they had taken a single step without their instructions, 
which doubtless were given with a view to the really present 
pecuniary helplessness of France, and the state of matters in 
Spain 1 

Lorraine was restored to its legitimate sovereign, the suc- 
cessor of that duke who had rendered such service to Germany. 
That prince from Lintz had written to the emperor thus : — " Ac- 
cording to your orders, I set out from Innsbruck to go to Vi- 
enna—but I am stopped here by a greater Master. I go to 
give an account of a life which I have entirely consecrated to 
you. Do not forget that I have a wife, who is related to you ; 
children, to whom I bequeath nothing but my sword ; and sub- 
jects, who are suffering under oppression." At his death, Leo- 
pold behaved well — he now embraced the opportunity of helping 
and befriending those who, having suffered in his cause, had 
claims which he had generosity enough pertinaciously and suc- 
cessfully to urge. The son of Charles V. now resumed that 
sovereignty that had belonged to his family for 700 years ; and, 
in repairing the breaches made by the cruel and perfidious 
French, no prince ever more worthily exercised his power. It 
should be remembered, to the latest posterity, that one of the 
petty princes of Germany was he who did most for the benefit 
of his people. Finding Lorraine desolate and abandoned, he 
re-peopled and enriched it ; he preserved it always in peace, 
while Europe was ravaged by war. 

His conduct was so prudent that he was ever on good 
terms with France, and at the same time was beloved in the 
empire. If he saw a gentleman's house in ruins, he immedi- 
ately had it repaired at his own expense : he paid their debts, 
and took care to have their daughters properly married. He 



DEATH OF JOHN SOBIESKI. 287 

mixed the politeness of a friend with the profuse magnificence 
of a prince. He promoted the arts in his little domains ? and 
formed his court upon the model of France ; so that, going 
thence to Luneville, says Voltaire, one would almost imagine 
one's self at Versailles. " Encouraging learning, he founded a 
liberal university, to which the young nobility resorted to re- 
ceive a first-rate education. There the true and useful sciences 
were taught ; and the principles of natural philosophy ocularly 
demonstrated by the most curious machines. He searched for 
men of genius and talent, even in the lowest stations and most 
obscure retreats; and when he found such, he always encou- 
raged and brought them to light. In short, during his whole 
reign, his only employment was the care of procuring to his 
people tranquillity, riches, knowledge, and pleasure. * I would 
quit my sovereignty to-morrow/ said he, ' if I could do no more 
good.' Thus he enjoyed the gratification of being universally 
beloved ; and long after his death," continues Voltaire, " I my- 
self have seen his subjects shed tears when his name was men- 
tioned. In short, he left an example to the greatest princes ; 
and, by his behaviour, not a little paved the way for his son to 
the imperial diadem." 

The treaties entered into at this peace of Ryswick, on the 
part of Louis XIV., virtually acknowledged, observes Mr. James, 
" that for nine years he had continued a bloody and destructive 
war, had ravaged the Palatinate, had cast away the lives of many 
hundreds of thousands of men, had exhausted the finances of 
his realm, had brought desolation over wide tracts of fertile 
and peaceful lands, had ruined commerce and arts, had carried 
misery to the hearths of his own people, and widowed many a 
once happy heart throughout all Europe, in vain, if not un- 
justly. Those who have written on the subject say that his 
motives in concluding this peace were virtuous. It may be so ; 
but those motives were somewhat tardily felt, and were lamen- 
tably soon forgotten." 

John Sobieski, King of Poland, after he had long outlived 
the fame he had earned by raising the siege of Vienna, died at 
length, contemned by every body. His government was so 
feeble that the diets ended always in quarrels, without effecting 
any business. He devoted himself almost exclusively to the 
heaping up of wealth, which he presumed would carry his son's 
succession to the throne — the only elective one in the world. 
How different a character to Leopold of Lorraine, just depicted ! 
The "gallant" and "freedom-loving" Poles put up the crown 
to a kind of auction, encouraging all candidates to come and 
bid for it ! A party were for John's son, notwithstanding their 
aversion to his mother. The Prince ofConti, the Duke of Lor- 
raine, the Prince of Baden, and Don Livio Odeschalchi (the 



288 THE BATTLE OF ZANTA. 

pope's nephew), were all named. As the intrigues of the 
French party at one time appeared the strongest, and disgrace- 
fully failed ; and, as neither of the other candidates were likely 
to succeed, a secret negociation was effected to place the Elec- 
tor of Saxony on the throne. When the other parties found 
they could not succeed, it was agreed by all to preclude French 
influence. It was necessary for the elector to change his re- 
ligion ! — This presented no kind of difficulty — the change was 
regularly attested by the imperial court : he made all imaginable 
haste to Cracow, and was soon after crowned, to the great 
joy of the imperial party : but to the inexpressible trouble of 
his subjects in Saxony, who, being protestants, dreaded per- 
secution. 

As he had no kind of religion himself, the priests could not 
work him up to persecute those whose profession he had so 
lately abjured. Indeed he sent to quiet their fears by assurances 
that he would make no change among them ; and his consort, 
descended from the house of Brandenburg, expressed the most 
just and praiseworthy sentiments, that greatly comforted the 
Saxons. The Prince of Conti made an effort to disturb this 
arrangement. A fleet was ordered from Dunkirk to convey him 
to Poland ; on his arrival at Dantzig, he found that city had 
declared for the new king, so that they would not suffer his 
party to land. He had brought the sinew T s of war plentifully 
with him, and his partizans suggested a free distributing thereof 
among them, before they assembled the talked-of army which 
w r as to place him on the throne. He told them he w T as limited, 
and could not exercise a discretion ; so that the only point of 
difference between them turned on the two words before and 
after. As he saw no appearance of any force, fearing he should 
be frozen up in the Baltic, he returned to Dunkirk, taking back 
his " yellow hussars." 

Voltaire contrives to pick "glory" out of this, observing 
that he had the glory of being elected, although France had the 
mortification to find that she was unable to make a King of 
Poland. This disgrace did not disturb the peace of the north 
of Europe, and the south was restored to quiet by the peace of 
Ryswick. So that the only remaining w T ar w r as that carried on 
by the Turks against Germany, Poland, Venice, and Russia. 
But at the battle of Zanta, Prince Eugene routed the grand 
signor at the head of his army ; that Turkish prince, seventeen 
of his bashaws, and 20,000 Turks, were slain. The Ottoman 
pride was low r ered, and the peace of Carlowitz secured the neigh- 
bouring countries from the continued irruptions of these bar- 
barians. By this treaty, signed in 1699, Venice had the Morea; 
Russia, Asoph ; Poland, Caminieck ; and Germany, Transylvania. 
War had ceased in Europe, Asia, and Africa — the gates of the 



PETER THE GREAT. 289 

temple of Janus might have been shut — but, alas ! not for 
long. 

One of the most extraordinary characters of the period now 
appears upon the stage. Of him, Voltaire remarks that, though 
born almost a savage, he arrived to a true pitch of grandeur : 
by force of genius and labour he became the reformer, or rather 
the founder, of his empire. Bulwer says, " if Cromwell was the 
greatest man (Caesar excepted) who ever rose to the supreme 
power, Peter was the greatest man ever born to it." At 24 years 
of age, the Tzar heroically resolved to submit to the privations 
he necessarily must undergo in making himself acquainted prac- 
tically with naval architecture. He had entered the army as a 
common soldier, and performed the duties of every grade, until 
he attained the command of a body of troops; thus personally 
exhibiting his conviction of the necessity of submitting to disci- 
pline. Forming great designs ; intending to make a navigable 
canal between the Volga and the Tanais, to carry both pro- 
visions and materials for a fleet to Asoph, he wisely decided to 
inspect the fleets of Holland and England. 

To that end, having sent an embassy to Holland, to regulate 
some matters of commerce, after the ambassadors were gone, he 
settled his affairs in suitable hands, and with only two or three 
servants, followed and overtook his ambassadors. To their sur- 
prise, he informed them of his intention to accompany them 
incognito, as a private gentleman attached to the embassy. Nor 
was it without difficulty he could get away from Russia; for 
his enlightened clergy were clamorous against his going into 
foreign parts, as they considered France, England, and Holland 
barbarous. They said to travel was an abomination before the 
Lord, and had been so ever since the days of Moses, and there- 
fore contrary to their holy religion ! Peter knew his men too 
well to be deterred by the ignorance of these vermin-covered, 
train-oil drinking, wretches, and therefore departed with his 
humble train, which other accounts make to be twelve, among 
whom Menzikolf was numbered, nor did he forget to take his 
favourite dwarf. The party visited Riga, and Peter wished to 
see the fortifications of the town, but was refused by the go- 
vernor ; that want of courtesy was not forgotten by the tzar. 
Having reached Emmeric on the Rhine, the tzar, impatient to ar- 
rive at his destination, left the embassy, and, having hired a small 
boat, proceeded to Amsterdam ; through which, Nestesuronoi 
says, he fled like lightning, and never once stopped till he arrived 
at Zaandam, fifteen days before the embassy reached Amsterdam. 

The first person seen by the Russian party in the boat was 
a man fishing in a small skiff, of the name of Kist, who had 
worked as a smith in Russia, and was immediately recognized 
by one of the six persons who were with the tzar : this person 



290 THE DUTCH BARBER. 

called over to Mm to come to them, which he did. The man's 
astonishment may be conceived on seeing the tzar of Russia 
sailing in a little boat, dressed like a Dutch skipper, in a red 
jacket and white linen trowsers. Peter told Kist he wanted 
lodgings, and should like to take them with him. Kist was but in 
poor circumstances, and would have excused himself, but Peter 
persisted. As a poor widow woman had a small house behind 
his, she assented to move to a little adjoining hut, in order to 
accommodate the royal stranger. Peter's lodgings consisted of 
two small rooms, with a loft over them, and an adjoining shed. 
Kist received strict injunctions, on no account whatsoever, to 
let it be known who his lodger was, as he did not wish to be 
discovered. The tzar could speak Dutch fluently, and he told 
the crowd collected to see the strangers that they were all car- 
penters and labourers from a foreign country, who had come to 
Zaandam in search of work. But no one believed this, as the 
rich clothes of his companions, who had kept on their proper 
Russian dresses, sufficiently contradicted any such idea. He 
visited the families and widows of several Dutch seamen and 
ship carpenters, whom he had known at Archangel and Plescow, 
representing himself as a brother ship-builder. 

Widow Musch, to whom he had sent 500 guilders, said she 
was afraid she never could be sufficiently thankful to the tzar 
for his great kindness, but entreated Peter, if he ever might be 
permitted to come into the presence of his majesty, to tell him how 
very welcome the gift was in her widowed state, and that she was 
most humbly and cordially thankful for his kind consideration. 
He assured the poor woman that she might rely on the tzar 
being made acquainted with all she had said. Having been all 
round to the families of his acquaintance in Russia, he now 
visited the shops of Zaandam, to purchase carpenter's tools for 
himself and companions, whom he had directed to clothe them- 
selves in the common dress of the dockyards. Among these, 
his favourites, Menzikoff and Galitzin, were directed to handle 
the tools and work as well as himself. 

To his annoyance, the next day being Sunday, crowds from 
Amsterdam assembled before the lodging of the strangers. 
Peter had an unconquerable aversion to a crowd; besides, it 
was impossible to keep the secret ; for a Dutch resident at Arch- 
angel had written home to his friends, announcing the intended 
embassy, and that the tzar would accompany it in disguise; 
enclosing at the same time a description and a portrait of him. 
Among the crowd whom curiosity had attracted, was a barber 
from Amsterdam, to whom the letter and print had been shown. 
Like the fraternity in all ages, he had no desire to bury his 
secret, and, on seeing Peter, he called out, " Dat is den tzar ! " 
— that is the tzar. Indeed no one could mistake him who had 



PETER IN CONVULSIONS. 291 

ever heard his person described. The natural bent of his mind 
had now free scope — his time was passed almost wholly among 
the ship-builders, and in sailing about, of which he was very 
fond. I wish it to be understood that these particulars are ab- 
stracted from Scheltema ; he collected them from several cotem- 
porary writers, who were in the habit of frequently noting what 
occurred in constant intercourse with Peter — such as Noomen. 
Calf, Van Halem, Meerman, and several other authors to whom 
he refers. 

After quitting his first cabin, he lodged, not till after much 
persuasion, with a wealthy merchant and ship builder. Having 
purchased a new yacht, and fitted her with a bowsprit, made 
entirely with his own hands, to the astonishment of all the ship- 
wrights, who could scarcely believe their eyes in beholding a 
person of his high rank submit to work till the sweat ran down 
his face, or in seeing him handle his tools so dexterously. When 
this little vessel was ready for sea, he appointed the brother of 
his deceased friend, Musch, as his captain ; this person, as well 
as the widow, he invariably treated with kindness. Almost 
wholly on the water some days, he acquired such astonishing 
rapidity in all the movements connected with the vocation that 
he fairly planted these boves pigri, who had never dreamed of 
such " loopen, springen, en klauteren over the schepen " — run- 
ning, jumping, and clambering over the shipping. The curiosity 
of the Dutch to see this extraordinary character brought swarms 
from the capital on Sundays and holidays, so that all the win- 
dows and the house-tops in the street where he lodged were 
crowded with people. But he confined himself closely to the 
house at such times, and would not suffer himself to be seen. 
By the authorities, he was one day asked to be present at the 
ceremony of dragging a ship over the dam. He drily answered, 
" Straks, straks" — by and by. But, observing the multitude 
to have increased, he was visibly annoyed; and, in a violent 
passion, slamming to the door he exclaimed, " Te veel volks, te 
veel volks " — too many people, too many people. 

The crowds increasing next day so enraged Peter that he 
went into convulsions, to which he had been subject from his 
early youth. These are said to have been occasioned by the 
fright he received during some riots which occurred in his child- 
hood, when a ruffian held a naked sabre over his head. Under 
the painful influence of these spasms he continued for hours ; 
they were announced by a contortion of the neck towards the 
left side. Bassevitz, the Holstein envoy, ascribed them to 
poison, supposed to have been administered by his ambitious 
sister, Sophia — this is idle, as it was notoriously a family com- 
plaint. Now, when the tzar fell into these fits, his attendants 
sought out and placed before him a handsome young woman, 

s 3 



292 THE TZAR A SHIP-BUILDER, 

whose presence, says Scheltema, speedily led to his recovery. 
Whether the unexpected appearance of female beauty, or the 
sound of her voice, influenced his frame, it is difficult to say. 
On the other hand, the sight of a black-beetle had the effect of 
throwing him into convulsions : why then, argues one who is 
commenting on the record of Count Paul Jagouchinsky, should 
not a beautiful object produce the contrary effect of relieving 
him from them ? 

On entering himself as a ship's carpenter in the dockyard, 
he scrupulously observed the regulations under which his fel- 
low labourers worked. Clad as a common workman, if he 
wanted to speak with any one, with his adze in his hand, he 
would sit down on a rough log of timber for a short time, but 
was anxious to resume and finish the work on which he had 
been employed. On occasion of the Duke of Marlborough's 
visit to the dockyard, he asked the master to point out the tzar. 
A number of men were just then carrying a large beam of wood, 
close by the spot where Peter happened to be sitting at the 
time. Having shown the duke the object of his curiosity, the 
master called out, " Peter Zimmerman, why don't you assist 
these men?" The tzar immediately rose up and obeyed, placed 
his shoulder under the log, and helped to carry it to its proper 
place. Writing to the patriarch of Russia, he says, " I am obe- 
dient to the commands of God, spoken to father Adam, ' In the 
sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread.' " He could and 
did lend a helping hand at every thing connected with ship- 
building, such as rope-making, sail-making, smith's work, &c. 
At Muller's manufactory, at Istia, Peter forged several bars of 
iron and put his own mark on each of them. He made the com- 
panions of his journey blow the bellows, stir the fire, carry coals, 
and do all the labouring work of journeymen blacksmiths. The 
tzar demanded payment from Muller for his work at the re- 
gular rate; receiving 18 altins, he said, " This will serve to buy 
me a pair of shoes, of which I stand in great need " — exhibiting 
those he wore, that had been mended. Having bought a new 
pair at a shop, he took great pleasure in showing them, ob- 
serving, " I have earned them well, by the sweat of my brow, 
with hammer and anvil." 

Menzikoff and the other friends of Peter worked with him in 
the dockyard, but they complained bitterly of sore hands : ex- 
cept the tzar, they all affected to consider it as mere amusement. 
But he would not rest till he had acquainted himself with all 
connected with ship-building. After that, he determined to visit 
the Greenland ships ; he therefore proceeded to the Texel, where 
were upwards of a hundred, just returned. He went on board 
several of them, enquired the manner of catching the whales, 
how the blubber was cut off, the oil boiled, and the whalebone 



AND OPERATING SURGEON. 293 

cut out. Nothing was by him considered too troublesome; 
nothing about these filthy ships too filthy ; that could lead to 
his acquisition of knowledge. The same spirit pervaded all his 
other enquiries in the manufactories for expressing the oil, 
cutting planks, &c. To every new object he went, exclaiming, 
4 'What is dat ? " His companions record that ten or twelve times 
a day would he say, " What is dat ?" invariably adding, *• Dat 
wil ik zien" — that will I see. He frequently placed himself in 
peril, and one day was nearly caught by the machinery of a wind- 
mill. Once he fell from a crane that he had climbed to examine ; 
and in his experiments in sailing he frequently was in the utmost 
peril of being overset. He was very fond of attending markets, 
and particularly amused with mountebanks and vendors of quack 
medicine. Amidst his many acquirements, he compounded me- 
dicines and drew teeth : he attended dissections and learned to 
bleed — which afterwards proved of use in enabling him, in his 
own dominions, to doctor his army. 

He tapped the wife of a Dutch merchant who had the dropsy, 
but, the operation having been too long deferred, the poor wo- 
man died, as the faculty prognosticated ; and, to compensate the 
husband, the tzar attended her funeral ! He was ever ready to 
perform kind offices in a surgical way, to which end he always 
had his instruments in his pocket, as well as mathematical in- 
struments. One day his valet looked very sad, Peter enquired 
what was the matter ? the man replied, '.* Nothing, sire, except 
that my wife has got the tooth-ache and refuses to have it out." 
"Does she?'' exclaimed the tzar, "let me see her, and I'll war- 
rant I'll cure her." She was brought, and made to sit down, while 
Peter examined her mouth, although she protested there was 
nothing the matter with her. The dejected husband assured his 
majesty she always said so when the doctor was present. " Well, 
well," said the tzar, " she shall not suffer long, do you hold her 
head and arms." Peter secured that which he conceived was 
the offending tooth, and extracted it expertly. A few days after- 
wards, the tzar was informed that the poor woman's tooth ailed 
nothing, and that it was only a trick of her husband's to be re- 
venged on his wife's supposed gallantries. Now this cut two 
ways — Peter was a dupe to the superior tact of his valet, and his 
judgment as a dentist was brought into disrepute. In a rage, 
he sent for his valet, and with his own hands severely beat him. 

Being very intimate with Burgomaster Witsen, the Jews ap- 
plied to this kind-hearted liberal ship owner to interest the 
tzar on their behalf, offering 100,000 florins if it should prove 
successful. The tzar heard patiently what he had to say in their 
favour, and then replied, " My good friend, Witsen, you know 
the Jews, and my countrymen's opinion of them. I also know 
both. They need not think of settling in my dominions. Thank 



294 HIS APPRECIATION OF 

them for their offer, but tell them I really should feel pity for 
them were they to go to Russia ; for, though they have the re- 
putation of knowing how to cheat the whole world, I apprehend 
my country would prove more than a match for them." The 
tzar showed his wisdom in nothing more than in keeping these 
fugitives and vagabonds out of his dominions ; for, among other 
reasons, as they never will work, neither should they eat. And 
as all they think of doing is "to watch the turn of the mar- 
ket," and there was no allowed gamble from paper money cur- 
rency in Russia, Peter naturally thought it might be as well to 
let them cheat and swindle the Dutch and English. But these 
" ancient people " crept into Russia in the lapse of time, and, 
even while I am writing, the Russian government have found it 
necessary to drive them out. Whether or not with cruelty I 
cannot take upon me to determine. From the accounts, it is 
matter of rejoicing that England is not to be the sewer for this 
filth ; and that the knavish tricks of the descendants of those 
stubborn wretches who killed the Lord of life and glory may be 
exercised in the warm valleys of Siberia, or that they may be 
fanned by the breezes from the Arctic sea ! 

Peter was introduced to all the learned and scientific Dutch : 
he attended regularly professor Ruych's lectures in the dissect- 
ing-room ; and, being in the habit of sitting close to the table, 
one day while the lecturer was explaining the different parts of 
the human body, Peter became so excited that he jumped from 
his seat, and was about to snatch the scalpel from the hands of 
the dissector. He visited all the museums of natural history, 
and saw all the collections of coins and medals ; also Leuwen- 
hoeck's microscopes ; in short, his thirst for gaining knowledge 
was inextinguishable. He invited eminent men in legal attain- 
ments, engineering, &c, to repair to Russia. He attended the 
courts of law, whose proceedings appeared too tedious to his 
prompt notions. Two of his own people having behaved amiss, 
he ordered them to prison ; and would have had both executed, 
but the Dutch government peremptorily forbad such a stretch 
of power, unknown to their laws. 

One of the priests of the Greek church, who accompanied 
the embassy, used to drink gin. One day finding his reverence 
greatly intoxicated, Peter immediately sentenced him to turn 
the wheel in the rope yard. So that the tzar reminds one of 
the caricature of the old clergyman, made, under the poor laws, 
to break stones by the road side. He laments his fate to the 
flinty overseer, observing that they were no respecters of per- 
sons. "No, nor of parsons, neither," the coarse official is made 
to reply, as the elderly divine, seated on a little heap by the 
path, giving another crack, breaks but feebly another stone. 
So, on the priest's petitioning for forgiveness, and exhibiting his 



JEWS AND PRIESTS. 295 

delicate hands, which were never made for such rough employ, 
wofully disfigured by unaccustomed work, the obdurate tzar 
severely answered, " Quick, quick, to your work !" We cannot 
but remember Cowper's sympathy for the priesthood : " Oh, 
w r hy are parsons made so fine !" Peter was always very kind to 
his dwarf, whom he took on his knee when there was otherwise 
scarcely room for him in his carriage. 

He was gratified during his stay in Holland by tidings of his 
army having gained a great victory over the Turks and Tartars ; 
on the arrival of which news the Russian embassy received the 
congratulations of the representatives of Germany, Sweden, 
Denmark, and Brandenburg. But the French, offended at the 
part he had taken in the election of Augustus to the throne of 
Poland, declined this civility, which caused Peter to vow he 
would not visit France in the course of his travels. His curi- 
osity in Holland being at length satisfied, he went for the last 
time to take an affectionate leave of his friends and fellow 
labourers of Zaandam, with whom he had been so intimately 
connected, and the parting was a mutual source of regret. Pro- 
ceeding to the Hague, with M. le Fort, he had an interview" with 
William III., when it was arranged that two or three ships of 
war, and one of the royal yachts, should be sent over to Hel- 
voetsluys, in the early part of the month of January, to convey 
the tzar and his suite to England. He stayed some months here 
in the character of a private gentleman, although he was more 
especially placed under the charge of the Marquis Carmarthen, 
between whom and the tzar a great intimacy sprang up. The 
king ordered the archbishop, bishop Burnet, and other bishops 
to attend upon him. 

Burnet describes him, from very frequent opportunities of 
judging, as of a very hot temper, soon inflamed, and very brutal 
in his passion ; and this natural irascibility was often greatly 
heightened by his habit of drinking brandy and other strong 
liquors. At the house, near York Buildings, the Marquis and 
he used to spend their evenings together, drinking " hot pepper 
and brandy : " he was much taken with a sort of drink called 
nectar ambrosia. It seems probable that the convulsions to 
which he was subject were in some measure attributable to his 
love of spirits. Burnet says that " he seemed more designed 
by nature for a ship's carpenter than a great prince : but he was 
resolved to encourage learning, and to polish his people by 
sending some of them to travel in other countries, and to draw 
strangers to come and live among them." After staying a short 
time in London visiting theatres ; the king at Kensington (where 
he went in a hackney-coach) ; a ball at St. James's ; a masque- 
rade at the Temple, and such like amusements and entertain- 
ments—he went to Deptford. He had found the annoyance of 



296 ABUSE OF LIBERTY. 

the crowds about London insupportable. On one occasion, 
walking arm-in-arm along the Strand with the Marquis Car- 
marthen, a porter, with a load on his shoulder, pushing rudely 
against him, drove Peter into the kennel. He was in towering 
wrath, and wanted to knock the man down — the marquis inter- 
fered, and asked the porter what he meant, and if he knew that 
it was the tzar ? The coarse ruffian, turning round, with a grin, 
said, " Tzar ! we are all tzars here." 

If we admire the liberty which this anecdote exhibits, we 
must deplore its constant association with such brutal coarse- 
ness. I once knew of a case somewhat similar : Peter , 

Esq., a magistrate in Suffolk, who, thinking there was little in 
this world beyond being one of the quorum, was rather officious, 
and had the reputation of twaddling, on one occasion, for some 
trivial offence, justly punished a saucy rogue brought before 
him. The man insolently told his worship he would sarve him 
out some day. Years elapsed — the offender had become a por- 
ter in London, and one day was coming down the slope of 
Blackfriars' Bridge, when he saw before him the identical little 
magistrate who had excited his ire. Remembering the provo- 
cation, he pushed the old gentleman violently against the ba- 
lustrades, and on being remonstrated with for his shameful 
conduct, the porter poured out torrents of abuse on the now 
powerless magistrate, who, of course, came off second best in 
such a warfare. The brute wound up his compliments with the 
usual London interrogatory — "Who are you? you're nobody 
here, if you are a very great man in Suffolk. I told you Pd 
sarve you out some day ! " 

I do not record such anecdotes — that many refined readers 
may consider low or poor — with a view to exhibit in a desirable 
light what coarse and vulgar people deem liberty. It is doubt- 
less a blessing to live in a country where offence to a great man 
in the streets shall subject the aggressor to no more than 
merited punishment. That we can be clapped into no bastile 
for trivial matters ; and that we cannot be met in the Strand 
with an official order immediately to stretch out our necks at 
the command of the sultan for our heads to be chopped off, be- 
cause we have dared to wear a green turban. But, from all the 
samples I have had of the understanding the lower orders have 
of what true "liberty" consists in — although a few quarts of 
beer will call forth thousands of apostrophes to the blessed 
goddess — I am confident it centres in endeavours to pull down 
all that is above them. To what this degradation may be attri- 
butable, and whether or not the progress of education will cure 
this evil, I will not now enquire. For the guidance of a nume- 
rous posterity, I hesitate not to record the observations of half 
a century, during which I have had much to do with many hun- 



aUAKERS AND LAWYERS. 297 

dreds of the working classes ; and to add, as one result there- 
from, that I would greatly prefer the sword and the musket to 
rule over us, to seeing a close approximation to democracy. 
The porter's insolence to Peter the Great, and that of another 
porter, a century and a quarter afterwards, to Peter the Little, 
coupled with our own observation, may fairly be taken as proofs 
of that appreciation of "liberty " and "reform," so often echoed 
by their " sweet voices." 

The purpose of this work forbids my following Peter in all 
the scenes he passed through in England. His interesting in- 
terviews with the Quakers, whom he could not imagine to be of 
any use, because they would not fight ; his habit when at public 
worship, or elsewhere, of taking off any near neighbour's wig, 
and clapping it on his own head, if he felt cold ; his resorting to 
the public-house at Great Tower Street, with his suite, and the 
workmen of the dock-yard, where they all smoked and drank 
brandy and water ; his visits to, and admiration of Greenwich 
hospital, which he advised William III. to exchange with St. 
James's ; his exploits in eating so enormously ; his amour with an 
actress ; and many such anecdotes, I must omit. But two or three 
I must make room for. At term time he went to Westminster 
Hall, and enquiring who all those busy people were in black 
gowns and wigs, and what they were about? being answered, 
" They are lawyers, Sir." — " Lawyers !" said he with the utmost 
astonishment ; "why, I have but two in my whole dominions, and 
I believe I shall hang one of them the moment I get home ! " 
Dining with the king at Kensington, he afterwards accompanied 
His Majesty to see the passing of four bills at the house of lords. 
His extraordinary aversion to be gazed at precluded his going 
into the body of the house, so that he was placed in a gutter 
upon the house-top, to peep in at the window, where he made 
so ridiculous a figure that neither king nor people could forbear 
laughing. This obliged him to retire sooner than he intended. 
A treaty was proposed with him to allow a free importation of 
tobacco into Russia. The use of tobacco was considered by his 
priesthood as an unclean thing; and Sir Gilbert Heathcote, 
chairman of the merchants, stated their fear that a prejudice 
might be created by the priests. The tzar quickly alleviated 
their anxieties, by telling Sir Gilbert that " he knew very well 
how to deal with the priests when he got home ; and that he 
would make them preach, and do, what he pleased." — It was 
eventually established that this head of his church had not made 
an empty boast, as he contrived to make them " prophecy 
smooth things." 

Peter's principal object in his short stay at Deptford was to 
gain instruction how to lay off the lines of ships, and cut out 
the moulds, though he used the adze while there, as well as the 

s 5 



298 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

workmen. Dr. Halley, the celebrated philosopher, resided then 
at Deptford, at this time famous for famous men — among whom 
was the delightful Evelyn, author of " Sylva," and the M Diary.' ' 
Peter requested an interview with Dr. Halley, consulting him as 
to his plans of building a fleet, and in general of introducing 
the arts and sciences into his country. The tzar was so pleased 
with Halley as frequently to ask him to dine with him, and with 
him he visited the Royal Observatory. This learned and scien- 
tific character was born October 29, 1656, in Shoreditch: after 
having been educated at St. Paul's School, in 1763, he became 
a commoner of Queen's College, Oxford, where he devoted him- 
self to those astronomical and geometrical studies which have 
immortalized his name. His first attempt was to correct the 
errors of Tycho Brahe, and to ascertain the place of the fixed 
stars ; but finding that those of the northern hemisphere already 
engaged the attention of Flamstead and Hevelius, he set out 
under the protection of Charles II. and of the East Indian Com- 
pany to St. Helena, where he formed a catalogue of those bodies 
which never appear above the horizon of Greenwich or Dantzick. 

After two years' residence there, he returned, in 1678, to 
England, and his planisphere was so well received by the learned 
that he was honoured with the degree of M.A. at Oxford, by 
royal mandamus, and was admitted fellow of the Royal Society. 
In 1677, he visited Hevelius at Dantzick, at the request of the 
Royal Society, to adjust the dispute between that great phi- 
losopher and Hooke in England, concerning the preference of 
plain or glass lights in astroscopical instruments. On his return 
he went upon a tour in company with his schoolfellow the learned 
Nelson ; and, in his way to Paris, he first observed that remark- 
able comet which at that time soon engaged the attention of the 
philosophers of Europe. After finishing his observations on 
this wandering body in the Paris observatory, with the kind as- 
sistance of the great Cassini, he went on to Lyons, and thence 
to Italy; where, returning to England in 1681, he left his friend 
Nelson. He now settled at Islington, after his marriage with 
the daughter of Mr. Tooke, the auditor of the Exchequer, and 
devoted himself ardently to his favourite pursuits. In 1683 ap- 
peared his theory of the variation of the magnetical compass, 
and by his acquaintance with the great Newton, whom at Cam- 
bridge he consulted on philosophical subjects, he had the op- 
portunity of recommending by an elegant copy of verses, the 
Principia of the illustrious astronomer, then first presented to 
the world. 

In 1698, he obtained from King William the appointment of 
a vessel to enable him to improve and to mature his philoso- 
phical observations on the variations of the needle ; and, after 
proceeding as far as the line, he returned home with the inten- 



OF DR. HALLEY. 299 

ticm of pursuing discoveries in another voyage. The next year, 
with bold zeal in the cause of science, he crossed the Atlantic 
Ocean, and penetrated the south pole till the ice stopped his 
progress ; and, returning to England in 1700, he published, the 
following year, his general chart, showing the variations of the 
compass in those seas frequented by European navigators. In 
a third voyage, he examined the course of the tides in the vari- 
ous parts of the English channel, and accurately ascertained the 
longitude and latitude of each headland, which in 1702 he pub- 
lished in an elegant chart. At the request of the Emperor of 
Germany, he was sent by Queen Anne to examine the coast of 
Dalmatia, where two convenient harbours were to be formed, 
under his auspices, for the reception of the commerce of the 
Mediterranean. Though the design failed, through the jealousy 
of the Dutch, Halley was honourably treated by the emperor, 
who presented him with a golden ring from his own finger, as a 
mark of respect. 

On his return to England in 1703, he was appointed Savilian 
Professor of Geometry at Oxford, and honoured with the degree 
of LLD. In 1713, he was appointed Secretary of the Royal 
Society, which he resigned in 1719, when he succeeded Flam- 
stead as Astronomer-royal ; and in reward of his services he re- 
ceived by the intercession of Queen Caroline, the allowance of 
half-pay as a captain of the navy. This great and good man, 
having done so much for science and philosophy, was in 1737 
attacked by a paralytic stroke, which gradually weakened his 
constitution, though it did not totally extinguish the powers of 
his mind. He expired easily and without a groan, as he sat in 
his chair, Jan. 14, 1741, aged 88. The visit of Peter to this ce- 
lebrated character, who shed a lustre on the age and country to 
which he belonged, caused me to turn to Dr. Lempriere to ex- 
tract a few particulars concerning him, and, finding so clear and 
judicious a summary of his scientific career, I have ventured to 
follow it to the end, as bearing on the state of science then. 

Peter having brought his investigations to a close in Eng- 
land, and received assurances from William III. that there 
should be no impediment in the way of his engaging such scien- 
tific men and artificers as he might desire, engaged Ferguson, 
the able mathematician, and others, to return with him. Two of 
the students from our noble national institution, which had pro- 
duced so many eminent characters, Christ's Hospital, that we 
vulgarly call the Blue-coat School, were also secured. They at 
once prevailed on the tzar to abolish the old barbarous mode 
of counting by balls strung on a wire, and to adopt the simple 
Arabic numerals. Perry, a famous engineer, also joined them : 
he went to construct harbours, sluices, and bridges, and to su- 
perintend the opening of a communication by means of canals 



300 PETER LEAVES ENGLAND. 

between the Baltic, the Caspian, and the Black seas. Peter 
also took many of the best artificers in various departments of 
science. They all however, on their return, in the course of 
years, complained bitterly of obstructions having been thrown 
in their way. One of the students from Christ's Hospital was 
murdered in the street at Petersburg ; the other could never get 
half the agreed allowance. 

In short, the semi-barbarous natives did all they could to 
harass and drive away those scientific men who went to raise 
them from living in hovels like dog-kennels, and feeding on the 
raw entrails of fish, to the benefits of civilization. Before he 
left, the king prevailed on this clever and aspiring barbarian 
emperor to sit to Sir Godfrey Kneller for his likeness, which ex- 
cellent picture is now to be seen at Windsor Castle: Having 
mustered, in all, with the English captains, pilots, surgeons, 
gunners, mast-makers, boat-builders, compass-makers, carvers, 
anchorsmiths, locksmiths, coppersmiths, &c, and the Russian 
embassy and suite, 500 persons, ships were appointed by the 
admiralty to convey them to Holland. Thence Peter soon pro- 
ceeded to Vienna, where he and the embassy were received with 
great pomp by the emperor ; and they were entertained with 
splendid dinners, balls, &c. But these matters afforded him no 
gratification : he went there to acquaint himself with the dress, 
accoutrements, and discipline of the army. While at the capital 
of Germany, he received accounts of great preparations making 
to receive him at Venice ; and that the pope expected the ho- 
nour of suitably entertaining so high and mighty a sovereign, 
through whose instrumentality he hoped to re-unite the Greek 
and Latin churches. 

One of the young persons whom Peter had ordered to Venice, 
of the Golownin family, was a great favourite of the tzar's. 
He had instructed him to learn the Italian language, and to 
become acquainted with the construction of the galleys. Now, 
as I have said, the wretched priests, ever at work for evil, had 
always considered it a horrible sin to quit their own country ; 
so, after Peter was gone, they worked upon this weak young 
man to promise never to leave his room when at Venice. When 
Peter took him to Voronitz, to witness his skill, and found he 
had absolutely learned nothing of naval architecture, the tzar 
good humouredly supposed he had passed his time in closely 
studying the language ? Finding Golownin knew no more of 
that, Peter waxed wrath, and said, " Then what the devil have 
you been doing at Venice?" "Sire," replied the young sage, 
u I smoked my pipe, I drank brandy, and very rarely stirred out 
of my room," Peter, half angrily, half laughing, told him to 
get out of his sight—for that he was only fit to be made one of 
his fools. 



ALLEGED CRUELTY OF THE TZAR. 301 

In the midst of these efforts to civilize his people, Peter was 
hurried to Moscow by tidings of the celebrated rebellion of the 
Strelitzes, who had made the poor savages believe that Peter 
was going to take away their religion. If-he could have accom- 
plished this, it would indeed have added to his fame. This was 
accompanied with many other extravagant allegations. The 
poor people, thus worked upon, assembled — about 8,000 re- 
formers — marching towards Moscow. A battle ensued, numbers 
were slain, and the rest taken prisoners, by General Gordon ; 
most were thrown into the prisons, to await the return of the 
tzar. The Count de Segur, in his " Histoire de Russie," says 
that " Peter's example, unique in history, is, without doubt, the 
example of a despot — a despot by birth, a despot by condition, 
by necessity, by the ascendency of genius, by temperament, and 
because slaves must of necessity have a master ; but, what is 
most irreconcilable, a despot more patriotic, more constantly 
and entirely devoted to the welfare of his country, than any 
republican citizen — whether ancient or modern." 

As to the terrible punishments Peter inflicted for this ill- 
advised rebellion, accounts are widely different ; but all agreed 
in their being extensive in degree, and horrible in character, as 
it appeared to him by extreme severity necessary to crush any 
future attempt at disturbing his throne. Some were broken on 
the wheel, and then beheaded. Many were hanged on gibbets ; 
many bodies of the wealthier citizens were laid by the road side 
with the heads by them, and in a frozen state left the whole 
winter as a terror and example to all beholders. Pillars were 
erected to record the crimes and the punishments : 2,000 are, 
by some accounts, stated to have been put to death. Burnet 
says, " on this occasion he let loose his fury on all whom he 
suspected ; some hundreds of them were hanged all round 
Moscow, and it was said he cut off many heads with his own 
hand ; and so far was he from relenting, or showing any sort of 
tenderness, that he seemed delighted with it." A writer of the 
period, then residing at Moscow, does not corroborate this 
alleged severity; and Peter's apologists rely on this circum- 
stance to lighten the stain on his character. But it must be 
owned, that writers with the sabre suspended over their necks 
have a strong temptation to turn their pens so as to turn away 
the edge of the sword. 

A secretary to the Austrian envoy states that the tzar, with 
his own hand, struck off eighty heads, while the Boyar Plescow 
held the hair, to afford Peter a better stroke ! Several Russian 
princes operated in various ways on the unfortunate prisoners. 
M. Le Fort and Baron De Plumberg excused partaking of the 
sport, as it was not the custom of their countries. Upon which 
Peter excused them — but, observed that " there was no sacrifice 



302 DEATH OF LE FORT. 

more agreeable to the Deity than the blood of a criminal." 
Printz, a Prussian envoy, stated that, shortly after, Peter gave 
an entertainment, and had twenty of these unfortunates brought 
from prison, and at each glass he emptied he struck off one of 
their heads with his own hands. Levesque, a respectable writer 
on Russia, gives currency to these and similar statements; 
another writer, Korb, states numerous and horrible atrocities. 
As his sister, the Princess Sophia, was supposed to have had 
some hand in this rebellion, he brutally caused some of the 
poor creatures to be hung up opposite to the window of her 
apartment, holding petitions to her in their hands ! These 
atrocities are corroborated by Segur, Voltaire, and others. 

After these shocking scenes had awfully suppressed the 
rising, Peter set about reforming his barbarians. He had sense 
enough to use, as his first instrument, the printing press ; he 
published treatises on engineering, artillery, mechanics, history, 
and chronology. He founded schools for various arts and 
sciences, and for the Latin, German, and other languages. He 
encouraged free trade : he altered the calendar to make it cor- 
respond with other nations — commencing with 1 700. The priests 
said this was worse than Antichrist, for, as God created the 
world in September, he meant that the creation of it should 
date from that period ! By the bye, may not this prove a use- 
ful suggestion to those modern monks who are so zealous in 
their attempts to revive discipline, and restore the ancient ways ? 
I dare say they sympathize with their brethren of the " sister 
church," and, like those priests, wonder how Peter was able to 
change the course of the sun ! 

Amidst multitudes of beneficial changes, he was struck with 
grief by the death of his valuable friend Le Fort ; who was 
honoured by a public funeral at Moscow, which Peter attended 
as a mourner. He was buried in the Dutch reformed church, 
and is commemorated by a monumental inscription. But his 
deeds will carry down his name to posterity, as a benefactor to 
the Russian nation, "when storied urn and animated bust" 
shall be known no longer. Peter continued indefatigable in 
promoting the prosperity of his country, encouraging commerce, 
learning, science, arts, and every useful enterprise. His atten- 
tion was mainly directed to the attainment of an uninterrupted 
communication with the great ocean : but as the Swedes pos- 
sessed the coasts of the Gulph of Finland, and the two banks 
of the Neva, up to the Lake of Ladoga, Russia was hemmed in. 
At Riga, we have seen (at p. 289), Peter had been refused admis- 
sion to the citadel — upon which he merely remarked that he 
should probably receive more civility at his next visit. Doubt- 
less he then went backward in his reminiscences to the time 
when it had belonged to Russia, and forward in his anticipations 
of its restoration to his empire. 



CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN. 303 

Charles XII., of Sweden, inherited the roughness of his fa- 
ther's temper, with the piety and the virtues of his mother, 
according to Burnet. Voltaire says he was more courageous 
than Peter, and yet less serviceable to his subjects — being rather 
formed to' command a soldiery, than a people. On a former 
disposition of territory, Sweden had been despoiled. These 
royal despots occasionally partition oif countries, much as paro- 
chial surveyors measure off our fields and gardens, uncere- 
moniously pushing through our hedges, slamming open our 
gates, trampling over our beds, and looking as if they would 
glory in covering their effrontery by pulling out the act of par- 
liament, in virtue of which they are authorised to insult you by 
trespassing, and nourish it in your face. It reminds one of 
Cobbett's humorous account of a bayonet being run into the 
latter end of a man, while, poor fellow, he is soothed with the 
announcement that it is by act of parliament, and, for the life 
of him, he cannot discover the difference in the pain, whether 
done with or without authority ! So, on a former final settle- 
ment of the north of Europe, Livonia and Esthonia had been 
ceded by Poland to Charles XI. 

Augustus, the new king, now contemplated recovering these 
districts. Peter thought it a good opportunity to strike in for 
what he could secure: and the King of Denmark fancied his 
schemes of revenge for having been worsted in arms by Sweden, 
and the gain of a province or two, by way of arrondisement, 
might now be realise^ This seems ever readily to captivate 
sovereigns, although we must suppose them all to be right, as 
they are stated to arise from ardent longing for the welfare of 
their people ; and, as they are always propounded in the name 
of the Holy Trinity — whose blessing is sought — and to whom 
praise is publicly offered for victories ! The only difficulty for us 
subjects is to make out how it can be, for while they are wran- 
gling and fighting, and all claiming to be just, as their objects 
and efforts are irreconcilably different — our want of logic, or 
vision, or some inherent defect, leaves us incapable of appreci- 
ating such justice ! However, Peter was not the man to wait 
for that ; he cautiously concluded a truce with Turkey for 25 
years, and concocted this confederacy against Charles XII., that 
young king being then only 18 years of age. Thus, in the year 
1700, commenced one of the most desolating of wars, that lasted 
18 years, and drew forth the extraordinary abilities of this re- 
markable youth, who "was reputed a hero at an age when 
others have not finished their education." 

Charles hastened to relieve Livonia, where Riga was for 
some months besieged by the King of Poland : on the King of 
Sweden's landing at Revel, the Saxons drew off. Having thus 
opened and supplied Riga, Charles marched for Narva, against 



304 ADDRESS TO ST. NICHOLAS. 

which Peter was stationed with an army of 100,000 men. Peter 
was no match for Charles in generalship, and was reflected on 
for the perilous position in which he placed his troops. The 
King of Sweden marched through ways hitherto impracticable, 
and, by a surprise, broke into the Russian camp before they 
were at all aware of his contiguity ; and then he totally routed 
Peter's army. He took many prisoners, with all their artillery 
and baggage, and then made a triumphant entry into Narva. 
Charles conducted a campaign of singular boldness and success, 
being victor in every contest with the three confederated kings. 
The King of Denmark was soon compelled to sign a peace, res- 
toring Holstein to its lawful sovereign, and paying the Swedes 
the expenses of the war. The King of Poland having been 
quite defeated in his objects, Charles had the better been ena- 
bled to check the tzar. With regular king-craft, Peter issued 
a manifesto, after his signal disaster, showing the folly of view- 
ing defeat as a mark of the disapprobation of heaven ; as success 
would have led them on arrogantly, and then they might have 
more seriously been beaten afterwards! This unusual logic, 
and pious resignation, was only to be equalled by as remarkable 
and edifying a bit of priestcraft. The clergy attributed the 
Muscovite defeat to the judgment of God, for such innovations 
as Peter had been guilty of, in forcing the filthy creatures to 
cut off those luxuriant nests of vermin, their beards ; in found- 
ing schools ; going to other countries to bring home arts and 
sciences; and all those terror-striking movements which so 
alarm those holy men. 

Not a word of the displeasure of heaven for the dreadful 
massacre of some 2,000 prisoners, on account of the rising of 
the Strelitzes ! Well, these priests were so indignant that they 
would not pray for Peter and his army ! One bishop, however, 
not to abandon all hope by prayer, cut between the king on the 
one hand, and his brethren on the other, striking out the inter- 
mediate course of an address to St. Nicholas, the patron of 
Muscovy. This petition is too rich to be omitted : — " O thou 
who art our perpetual comforter, in all our adversities, great 
St. Nicholas ! infinitely powerful ; by what sin have we offended 
thee, in our sacrifices, genuflexions, reverence, and thanksgivings 
— that thou hast thus forsaken us ? We have implored thy as- 
sistance against these terrible, insolent, enraged, dreadful, insu- 
perable, destroyers, when, like lions and bears, and other savage 
beasts, which have lost their young, they have attacked us, ter- 
rified, wounded, slain by thousands; us, who are thy people. 
But, as it is impossible this could have happened without witch- 
craft and enchantment, seeing the great care that we had taken 
to fortify ourselves in an inaccessible manner, for the defence 
and security of thy name ; we beseech the, O great Nicholas ! 



THE CROWN OF SPAIN. 305 

to be our champion and standard bearer ; to be with us, as well 
in peace as in war, in all our necessities, and in the time of our 
death ; to protect us against this terrible and tyrannical crowd 
of sorcerers, and drive them far from our frontiers, with the re- 
ward which they deserve." 

This commination was not confined to Lent, but was at once 
read in all the churches. Peter valued his patron and his priests 
much about alike ; and, while the piety of these barbarians was 
evoked by their priests, he took the precaution of securing more 
effectual aid than the saint's. Instead of wasting his time in 
" denouncing of God's anger and judgments against sinners" 
and " sorcerers," he had an early interview with King Augustus, 
to strengthen his hands, and confirm his resolution in main- 
taining the war against Sweden. Peter prudently watched 
over his military preparations ; personally inspected and di- 
rected the manning of his flotilla, to prevent the Swedes from 
insulting Novogorod ; and made frequent excursions to Moscow, 
to cherish his national improvements. Voltaire, to whom most 
writers on this epoch are mainly indebted says, in his history of 
the Russian empire, that " princes who have employed their 
peaceful days in public foundations are mentioned in history 
with honour ; but that Peter, just after the unfortunate battle of 
Narva, should undertake the junction of the Baltic, Caspian, 
and Euxine Seas, is what crowns him with more real glory than 
he could ever have derived from the most signal victory." 

I can neither follow the progress of the vast benefits the tzar 
conferred upon his barbarous people, nor detail the occurrences 
Of the Swedish wars ; as our attention is drawn imperatively to 
that which more intimately connects itself with France. So that I 
must be permitted a long journey, and a quick transit — even 
from the bleak regions of the north, to the luxuriant valleys and 
sunny plains of that unhappy country apparently doomed to be 
the apple of European discord ; and now, isolated from neigh- 
bouring warfare, to sink by internal strife, perpetual rebellions, 
and ceaseless massacres. Spain had long attracted the regards 
of the European sovereigns, as her childless monarch was ra- 
pidly sinking in premature decay. Voltaire pleasantly says, 
" the powers who already enjoyed in idea this vast succession, 
acted in the same manner as generally happens during the 
sickness of a rich old man without children. His wife, his 
relations, the priests, and the lawyers, placed to receive the 
last commands of the dying person, beset him on all sides to 
wrest from him a word in their favour. Some agree to share 
the spoils, whilst others prepare to dispute them." We learn, 
from Burnet, that while William III. was at Loo, a new treaty 
was set on foot concerning the succession to the crown of Spain. 
The United Provinces saw the danger to which they would be 



306 RIVAL CLAIMS TO 

exposed if they should engage in a new war, while they were 
groaning under the debt left as the consequence of the former 
war. And as in the House of Commons it appeared little ap- 
prehension was felt at the prospect of the house of Bourbon 
succeeding — for they argued that it mattered not who was King 
of Spain, as the occupant of the throne must be governed by 
the interests of the Peninsula — the ministry were unwilling to 
undertake to maintain the rights of the house of Austria. 

His long contest with France and the Turk had so crippled 
the emperor that he had more justice in his claim than strength 
to support it. The French gradually drew their forces towards 
the Spanish frontiers, resolving to enter Spain on the death of 
Charles. William, in answer to the French assertions of the 
right of their claim, and their strength, in conjunction with the 
Dutch, thought it might be advisable to agree to a partition, 
that should leave France in undisputed possession of the domi- 
nions in and about Italy, and a part of the kingdom of Navarre. 
It was also deemed desirable to yield up the rest to the em- 
peror's second son, Archduke Charles ; while the emperor did 
not expect the entire succession, he pressed to have the Duchy 
of Milan added to his hereditary dominions in Germany. France 
thought it would be better that the Duke of Lorraine should 
have the Duchy of Milan, for he was the emperor's nephew, 
and in his interest; and then, as a set-off, Lorraine could be an- 
nexed to France. The Germans did not like this proposal, and 
urged William strenuously to continue the negociations, and 
that with great secrecy, lest Spain should take offence. William 
is represented to have been all along anxious to place the house 
of Austria and the house of Bourbon in a juxta-position — as 
quarrels between them strengthened the protestant interest. 
The said wars in the south would be so distant from England, 
and might lead to the fleets of England and Holland being ar- 
biters of the matter. The good bishop Burnet says, he had this 
from the king's own mouth. 

Now this provisional dismemberment of Spain was not so 
indefensible as at first blush might appear. If, on the one 
hand, the Spaniards could not bear the thought of a partition of 
their monarchy, on the other, they had neither strength nor 
spirit to maintain it entire. Moreover, Voltaire observes that 
Louis XIV. and the Emperor Leopold stood in the same degree 
of consanguinity — both were grandsons of Philip III. ; so that 
the dauphin and Joseph, King of the Romans, had a double 
claim by the same proximity. The right of birth was unques- 
tionably in the house of Bourbon ; but the emperor's family, in 
asserting their rights, dwelt strongly on the solemn renunciations 
of both Louis XIII. and XIV. to the crown of Spain. They 
pleaded the name of Austria, the blood of Maximilian, the union 



SUCCEED CHARLES II. 307 

of the two Austrian branches, the hatred of the Spaniards to the 
Bourbons and the French nation. Another claimant existed in 
the young Prince of Bavaria, whose adherents, for he was only 
eight years old, put forth his pretensions because he was son of 
Margaret Theresa, half sister of the first wife of Louis XIV., and 
nephew to the dying King of Spain. At one period the court of 
France consented to this arrangement. 

But all these politic schemes were doomed to be frustrated : 
first by the sudden death of the Elector of Bavaria — as was un- 
derstood, by poison. This is rendered the more probable as 
Charles II. had been told of the intrigues afloat, and had, in in- 
dignation, executed a will, leaving this young prince heir to his 
dominions. Cabals immediately revived at Madrid, Vienna, 
Versailles, London, Rome, and the Hague. Treaties were also 
signed by France and England, but Leopold would not add his 
name, as he was in great hopes of having the whole succession. 
The bias of the declining king appears to have been in favour of 
the house of Austria ; and he requested Leopold to send his 
second son, Charles, to Madrid, with 10,000 men. This could 
not be done, as the European powers would not thus be dis- 
appointed of their expected prey. German hauteur soon rous- 
ed Castilian pride, for it transpired that the Archduke Charles 
indulged in the exercise of that dangerous and disagreeable 
weapon, sarcasm. The women around the sinking Spanish 
monarch widened the breach — bishops, mistresses, and ambas- 
sadors were all together by the ears. Perhaps it may be said that 
to the hopes of the house of Austria the coup de grace was given 
by the violence engendered by the rejoinders to a caustic remark 
of the Spanish ambassador at Vienna, who compared the minds 
of Leopold's ministers to the goats' horns in his country — little, 
stubborn, and crooked ! This sarcastic estimate of the Germans 
was in a letter, soon made public: — the ambassador speedily 
retired to Madrid, and there heightened the exasperation of the 
two nations against each other. 

The French ambassador, subtle and supple, made capital of 
this state of matters, and so smoothed down ancient national 
prejudices against the French as to secure universal friendship 
in place of jealousy and even hatred. Leopold talked big one 
while, and descended to entreaties at other times. Louis was very 
cautious and unpretending. The emperor now recalled his am- 
bassador : however a reconciliation took place, for we soon find 
him back at Madrid ; and messages were sent from Charles II. 
to Leopold, that the archduke should be his successor. Louis XIV. 
became impatient, and, ordering an army to the Spanish fron- 
tiers, recalled the very agreeable ambassador who had won all 
hearts, and now appointed him to command this army of ob- 
servation ! Voltaire says, " thus the dying king, menaced al- 



308 

ternately by those who laid claim to his succession, seeing that 
the day of his death would be that of the commencement of a 
new war, and that his dominions were to be torn to pieces, ad- 
vanced towards his end without comfort, without resolution, and 
in the midst of disquiet and anxiety." Mr. James, although he 
owns the exact nature of the intrigues of Louis, as well as his 
intentions, must remain in obscurity; and grants that it was na- 
tural to suppose he should labour for the nomination of a French 
prince ; yet believes he would not by arms have attempted to 
set aside the will of the King of Spain. 

Burnet attributes to the French the utmost perfidy, in alien- 
ating the Spaniards from their allies, that was effected by re- 
vealing how considerable a dismemberment of their empire the 
Germans had consented to — that all parties had engaged to keep 
a profound secret. In the " Memoires Politiques " of the Duke 
of Noailles, we are informed that Charles II. finally decided on 
leaving his throne to the grandson of Louis XIV., on account of 
the imprudences of the court of Vienna, the advice of the chief 
nobles of Spain, the judgment of jurisconsults and casuists, and 
the opinions of the pope himself. The King of Spain appears 
to have taken great pains to do that which was right, for, ill as 
he was, he wrote with his own hand to the pope. Voltaire re- 
marks on the pope's answer, not unjustly, that " his holiness, of 
a case of conscience, made a state affair — while his catholic 
majesty converted an important affair of state into a case of con- 
science." A short time before his death, Charles ordered the 
graves to be opened, in the Escurial, of his father, his mother, 
and his first queen (see p. 200), suspected to have been poi- 
soned by the Countess de Soissons, and he kissed the remains 
of their bodies. In this act he might have had an eye to an 
ancient practice in Spain ; or to accustom himself to the fear of 
death ; or had some secret superstitious notions, Voltaire sug- 
gests, that the opening of these tombs would retard his fatal 
hour. It is not unworthy of remark that Charles, in his will, 
left not only the general departure from the catholic faith — 
meaning popery — but even his not maintaining the immaculate 
conception of the Virgin, to be a cause of forfeiture of the 
crown I 

The Count de Harrac, Leopold's ambassador, still flattered 
himself that the Archduke Charles was nominated successor; 
but the death of the King of Spain, following closely on the 
execution of his last testament, caused that document to be 
produced. Harrac waited till after a grand council was held, 
anxiously expecting the result : the Duke d'Abrantes approached 
him with open arms — Harrac then made no doubt his master's 
son was king. The duke, enjoying his mistake, embraced him, 
m4chamment exclaiming, " Vengo ad expedir me de la casa de 



PHILIP STARTS FOR SPAIN, 309 

Austria " — I come to take my leave of the house of Austria ! 
Thus, continues Voltaire, after 200 years spent in wars, and 
fruitless negotiations, for only a part of the Spanish frontiers, 
the house of Bourbon, by a dash of the pen, at last got the whole 
Spanish monarchy. The Duke d'Anjou, grandson of Louis XIV., 
was thus called to the throne of Spain ; and the same will that, 
in failure of a younger son of the Bourbon family, nominated 
the Archduke Charles (afterwards the Emperor Charles VI.), ex- 
pressly mentioned that the empire and Spain must never be 
united in the same sovereign. The death of Charles II. of Spain 
occurred Nov. 1, 1700, and the prince was proclaimed as Phi- 
lip V. a fortnight afterwards ; the intermediate time having been 
employed in discussions whether Louis would abide by the treaty, 
or accept the testament. 

The latter decision had the voices of all Louis' privy council, 
but one. The chancellor, Pontchartrain, alone perceiving the 
perils which might ensue, strongly advised the King of France 
to prefer the treaty. Burnet completely reverses this in his 
statement. Ambition settled the question, and on the 4th Dec. 
the new king set out for his dominions, unopposed by either 
England or Holland. The Duke of Orleans entered a protest 
against his rights having been entirely overlooked; and the 
emperor talked of a resistance to the will, which the formidable 
attitude of the French rendered as abortive as the barking of a 
village cur, running out to stop the mail. One of the principal 
historians of this important period, who had the best means of 
informing others, because such a variety of documents were 
confided to him — original pieces, royal letters, those of the 
court, ministers, generals, and others, is the Due de Noailles. 
The establishment of Philip V. on the throne of Spain, the in- 
trigues of his court, the influence of the cabinet of Versailles 
on that of Madrid, the conduct of the principal Spaniards under 
the new government, the still stranger conduct of French am- 
bassadors, the false position in which they placed Louis XIV., 
the brilliant and yet sad part played by the sweet young queen, 
with the battles, cabals, and uncler-currents, in this important 
revolution, are all ably handled by Noailles — and to his pages 
I shall resort for much that becomes necessary to the continu- 
ation of this history. 

Accompanied to the frontiers, then, by his two brothers, the 
Dukes of Burgundy and Berry, with the Duke of Beauvilliers, 
and the Marshal de Noailles, Philip started to take possession 
of a throne environed with snares, in which the enemies of 
France wished he might be caught. Louis furnished him with 
a paper of instructions in his own hand-writing — first recom- 
mending him never to fail in his duty to God. This advice 
comes with perhaps equal force from one who has had the hap- 



310 LOUIS BRIBES THE ENGLISH. 

piness of following it, and from another who, like Louis, was 
ignorant of God by wicked works, and who should have taken 
for his motto " Who is the Lord, that we should obey him ! " 
The one from experimental enjoyment of the blessedness, and 
the other from pungent grief, at the misery of having run such 
a course of sin as had characterised this " Grand Monarque." 
Much of this document was good ; but we cannot help exclaim- 
ing Risum teneatis ! to parts where 4)urit} r , the preference of vir- 
tue over vice, conjugal love, the good of his subjects, &c, are en- 
joined. However, this will perhaps be considered a vulgar sneer 
at the privilege understood to belong to a certain class, concern- 
ing whom, notwithstanding, I shall make free, quoting the words 
of a higher Authority, to advise that, " all therefore whatsoever 
they bid you observe, that observe and do : but do not ye after 
their works : for they say, and do not." Philip had storms to 
fear from without ; and, from within, the ancient antipathy of 
Spain to France, the difference of national character and cus- 
toms, and the clashing of opposite interests. So great were his 
difficulties that the experience and power of Louis were neces- 
sary to his grandson. 

Europe at first seemed to be struck with amazement, and 
unable to exert herself, when she saw the monarchy of Spain 
become subject to France, her rival for three centuries. Louis 
appeared the most powerful monarch upon earth ; he was now 
62 years old, surrounded by a numerous offspring, and a grand- 
son taking upon himself the sovereignty of Spain, America, 
half of Italy, and the Netherlands. The breach of faith the 
King of France had been guilty of, towards those with whom 
he had entered into treaties on this subject, the court of France 
now published a resolution to explain. They said they looked 
to the design, not to technicalities ; to the spirit, not the letter ; 
and as the new arrangement would preserve the peace of Eu- 
rope — why, the treaties could have done no more ! William III. 
was outwitted; the emperor outraged; and a storm was evi- 
dently brewing. Louis sent over 6,000,000 of livres, which has 
always been found effectual to anoint with eye-salve the eyes of 
our members of parliament, that a majority might be main- 
tained in his interest. To Voltaire's testimony of Louis' bribing 
our parliament — those "fine old English gentlemen," it may 
be added that Burnet says " it is certain, great sums came over 
this winter from France ; the packet-boat seldom came without 
10,000 louis-d'ors — so many were sent that 1,000,000 guineas 
were coined out of them ! " 

Spain, threatened with a war by the emperor, fearing England 
and Holland would join, delivered all into the hands of France; 
the Spanish Netherlands and the Duchy of Milan received 
French garrisons, and the French fleet went to Cadiz ; another 



ENGLAND ACKNOWLEDGES PHILIP. 311 

French squadron went to the West Indies ; so that the whole 
Spanish empire may be said to have fallen, without a stroke, 
into the power of France. This was still more formidable, as 
the Duke of Burgundy had then no children, and therefore the 
new King of Spain was likely to succeed to the crown of France ; 
thus alarming the world with the appearance of an universal 
monarchy. 

In England, every thing looked very dark ; party spirit ran 
so high that the ministers could not command a majority, and 
prevailed on the king to dissolve the parliament. William, now 
52 years of age, always infirm of body, found himself growing 
worse, his legs swelled, and it was thought he was sinking. To 
this was generally attributed his otherwise unaccountable cold- 
ness to the threatening aspect of affairs, that made many con- 
clude he had entered into secret engagements with France. 
The tone of the ministry was that the King of France was ready 
to give all imaginable security for preserving the peace of Eu- 
rope. Leopold sent over here a minister to set forth his title 
to the Spanish monarchy, settled on his house by repeated an- 
cient entails, which now devolved on him by undoubted right. 
The ministers were scarcely civil to this envoy, and declined 
entering into consultation with him. The Dutch who were 
about the king, and all the foreign ministers, held that nothing 
but a general union of all the powers in Europe could hinder 
the conjunction of the two monarchies. It now began to be 
thought that the unusual reserve of William had been designed, 
that he was quite alive to the necessity for a new war, but that 
he had been cautiously endeavouring to manage the ministers 
and their strong party. Meanwhile the Dutch were in increasing 
alarm, as the forces of the French were pouring into their neigh- 
bourhood ; and, as the King of Spain gave them notice of his 
accession to the throne, they replied to him as lawful King of 
Spain. Our ministers made a handle of this, and pressed Wil- 
liam to acknowledge Philip V. : at last they prevailed. With- 
out the knowledge of the privy council, or the two houses, or 
the foreign ministers in England, the Paris Gazette first an- 
nounced this strange recognition. 

The Spanish governor of the Netherlands at once secured to 
Philip possession of Flanders, and opened a passage for the 
French troops through his electorate to Vienna, in case the em- 
peror should declare war. The Electors of Cologne and Bavaria, 
who were brothers, were strongly in the interest of France, not- 
withstanding the affair of the Elector of Bavaria's late son. Vol- 
taire wittily observes that both seemed to be right in their judg- 
ment, for the house of Bourbon seemed then incomparably the 
strongest. Of the daughters of the Duke of Savoy, one was 
Duchess of Burgundy, and another was about to be married to 



312 CLEMENT XI. 

Philip V. The duke himself was to command the French armies 
in Italy ; so that it was not imagined he would ever declare 
war against such relations. The Duke of Mantua received a 
French garrison into his dukedom ; the Milanese acknowledged 
Louis' grandson at once ; and even Portugal, the natural enemy 
of Spain, at first joined with her. Thus the interest of the 
Bourbon family prevailed from Lisbon to Antwerp, and from the 
Danube to Naples. 

Here was a brilliant sun-rise ! Scarcely a little cloud to be 
seen. But, like many a gaudy morning, the prosperous appear- 
ance was soon overcast. Holland daily grew more uneasy at 
witnessing the French occupation of Spanish Gueldres and Ant- 
werp ; so that, being apprehensive of designs upon Nimeguen 
and Bergen. op-Zoon, they began to secure their frontiers. The 
French rejected all their demands, and would agree to nothing 
but to renew the peace of Ryswick. Holland appealed to Eng- 
land, but the House of Commons, as I have shown, were secured 
for the present to the interests of Louis. Meanwhile the Dutch 
armed powerfully, but wanted marines, so that they were in no 
condition to make any impression on the enemy : and Leopold 
went on with preparations for a war in Italy. 

In October the pope had died, while all Europe was in such 
agitation about the fatal illness of Charles II. of Spain. As soon 
as the hopeless condition of the king was known at Rome, the 
intrigues of the conclave were quickened ; and, to the surprise 
of every body, John Francis Albani, a learned man, but little 
practised in worldly affairs, was chosen to the tiara. It never 
having been expected, France had engaged in no scheme to 
exclude him. At first the French court were displeased, but it 
was too late ; so they very prudently and successfully set about 
securing his holiness to their interests. He ascended, in 1700, 
as Clement XL, after taking three days to determine whether or 
not he would accept of the popedom. Able as a politician, he 
did not shine as a theologian ; his reign being disturbed by the 
schism of the Jansenists ; and his consistency tested in the con- 
demnation, by a bull called Unigenitus, of 101 Propositions of 
the New Testament by Quesnet — a book which he had ori- 
ginally approved and commended. Like the first Marquis of 
Winchester, this pope found the virulence of the times forced 
him to be " un saule, et non pas un chene !" Clement now 
refused to give the investiture of Naples, or to accept the 
annual present, for he would not quite break with the emperor. 
Denmark, having, as we saw at p. 304, been relieved from the 
war with Sweden, joined the emperor in a treaty. William, 
whose sense of the danger of Louis' schemes never slept, at the 
Hague became party to this treaty ; nor were the French court 
by this time without uneasiness as to the Duke of Savoy and the 



PHILIP AT BORDEAUX. 313 

Elector of Bavaria. Thus, then, the European clouds were work- 
ing up : and while the nations whose sovereigns were parties to 
the treaty were preparing to act on their notions of the peril of 
French influence ; and two of the greatest generals the world has 
ever seen, Prince Eugene of Savoy, and the Duke of Marlborough, 
are entering on the stage of conflict, to create such an impression 
on the state of matters throughout Europe as none had ever done 
before them ; let us turn, for a few moments, to take a view of 
the interior of Spain — that everlasting source of discord. 

The will of Charles II. had established a junta, or council of 
regency, of which the queen-dowager was to be president, while 
in reality the Cardinal Portocarrero was the main-spring. They 
deputed the Marquis de Velasco, constable of Castille, as am- 
bassador extraordinary to tender their homage to the new king, 
while on French ground, and afterwards to proceed to compli- 
ment Louis XIV. He arrived at Bordeaux almost at the same 
instant as did Philip, and was entertained by the Marshal de 
Noailles and the Duke de Beauvilliers. Wishing to salute the 
king without ceremony, as ambassador from the queen-dowager 
and the junta, they told him that, being a Spaniard, he could 
only be received as such, without any specific character, to 
which he acceded. Producing his gold key, distinguishing the 
gentlemen of the chamber, he wished to know if it was his ma- 
jesty's pleasure he should resign it ? To this it was answered that 
Philip V. would not prevent his carrying the key, as the junta had 
entrusted him with it — but that all matters, of consequence or 
unimportant, must necessarily be postponed till the king had the 
the means, in Spain, of judging of what was proper. Admitted 
to Philip's presence, Velasco testified the impatience of all Spa- 
niards to behold their sovereign, and his personal gratification 
to be the first to enjoy that honour. Philip appointed him 
ambassador-extraordinary to Louis, which was a higher honour 
than to be the envoy from the junta. Beauvilliers wrote a recom- 
mendatory introduction of Velasco to M. de Torci, the French 
minister. 

On arriving in Spain, Noailles writes to the same minister that 
the Spaniards seemed as much captivated with their new monarch 
on the one hand, as they were impressed with veneration for 
Louis XIV., to whom they professed entire submission. The 
queen-dowager, whose attachment to the house of Austria had 
been so conspicuous throughout the late reign, made a haughty 
complaint of her grand-master of the household, the Comte de 
San Estevan. Discharging him from his office, she wrote a sharp 
letter to Philip, demanding his banishment. The king returned 
a respectful and prudent answer, to the effect that he must sus- 
pend, till his arrival at Madrid, all interference in such matters ; 
and that he conceived the queen ought to know better than any 



314 PHILIP ENTERS MADRID. 

one the value to be attached to the services of such a minister 
as Estevan. 

Louis had advised that his ambassador, Harcourt, should act 
in concert with Portocarrero, in opposition to the wish of Har- 
court and many Spaniards, that the court of France should take 
a much more prominent part. In short, almost to make a French 
ministry, and openly treat Spain as a French province. But 
Louis saw the danger of this, and probably guessed the objects 
could be as well attained by not running counter to Spanish 
pride. Before Philip's arrival at Madrid, the queen-dowager re- 
ceived orders to quit that city, leaving the choice of her resi- 
dence to herself. She made a great outcry about it, and her 
avarice became manifest : she pleaded her property in all the 
furniture, and seemed disposed to strip the palace of every 
thing but the walls. Portocarrero, naturally a hard man, saw 
the stringent necessity of removing her and her two confessors, 
and the late king's also, as their intrigues would have thwarted 
the measures of the new government. Mendoza, the grand- 
inquisitor, was also banished to his bishopric ; and the cardinal 
was carrying matters with a high hand, in ordering off several 
influential nobles ; but by the more moderate tone of Philip, 
and the advice of Louis, this impolitic severity was stopped. 
The queen went to Toledo, as it was decided Philip V. should 
not enter the capital till she had departed. 

All being prepared, the king made for Madrid. Spite of 
the magnificence of the Spanish monarchs, the French consi- 
dered that there were neither equipages worthy of his rank, 
nor so many conveniences as they deemed necessary and proper. 
Nevertheless, Philip V. was received with the most lively de- 
monstrations of affection ; and, w T ithin three leagues of Madrid, 
the road was covered with 5,000 vehicles, and a countless throng 
of pedestrians. Not even France could testify a greater en- 
thusiasm for a beloved monarch, says Noailles ; and it must be 
owned that the qualities of the young king, his dignified car- 
riage, and his simplicity of manners, added to the favourable 
sentiments with which the vast concourse of his subjects were 
impressed. The transports of delight were clouded by a dread- 
ful accident: more than sixty persons, among whom were 
women and priests, were crushed in the dense throng, many 
dreadfully wounded, and others killed on the spot. The super- 
stitious feelings of the people were excited ; they now noticed 
with dismay that the king had entered on a Friday, which with 
some Spaniards was so regarded that they could with difficulty 
be got to quit their houses on that day. So unfortunate was it 
considered to do any thing then that they prognosticated the 
most threatening evils, without any possible affinity. His friends 
wanted Louis to go to Spain — the air w r as more suitable for el- 



LOUIS INVITED TO VISIT SPAIN. 315 

derly people — the gout was rarely known there-^and if the 
" Grand Roi" would but stay a few years at Madrid, his orders 
could be carried by a courier to France, where all was submis- 
sion and tranquillity; why, there would be no end of benefits; 
and, above all, the complete and satisfactory establishment of 
his grandson would be ensured. 

Some suggested that Louis should come after Easter, as the 
hulls were then stronger, and they would entertain Mm with a 
delightful fete ! Nothing for the giddy French now but Spain, 
which in their eyes had become an integral part of France, and 
almost as dear. But our old friends the priests were at work, 
and were the more dangerous from their ascendency over so ig- 
norant and superstitious a people. The three confessors whom 
the Spanish ministers, as well as the French advisers, had ejected 
from Madrid, were not idle. A Jesuit, named Kressa, was in 
strict and confidential correspondence with Leopold, like a bird 
of the air, informing him of every matter, acting as a spy for 
the powers inimical to France. Louis wrote instructions to have 
this gentleman quickly marched off. Philip dressed one while 
after the Spanish fashion, and then a la Franpoise, hoping to 
please " tout le monde, sans gener personne." This, it was 
thought, would set all the artistes on the qui vive, as the court 
must have double sets of clothes. His wet-nurse went with 
the young king, and set up a little court on her own account ! 
Louis, who well knew human nature, saw that such ridiculous 
airs would disgust the Spaniards, and directed her majesty, this 
unusual queen-mother, to abdicate. 

The words of M. de Torci, the minister of Louis at home, 
to the Due d'Harcourt are characteristic : " II est facile que la 
tete tourne aux Francois, et principalement aux Francoises en 
pays etranger :" it is easy for French heads to be turned, and 
especially in a foreign country ! It would seem not altogether 
blasphemy for foreigners to have said so, without this naive 
avowal ; for, on one occasion, while Philip was playing at bil- 
liards, this woman obtained from him orders for an establish- 
ment of eight horses ! The ambassador contrived soon to have 
this dignified dame restored to France. Extravagance like this 
soon called forth murmurs i the Spaniards did not bleed freely ; 
and to his frequent demands for u quelques pistoles " or " cent 
mille ecus," the invariable reply was — We must think of war: 
I suppose tantamount to our thrifty saying, that we must lay by 
against a rainy day. 

And the wanton extravagance that could order eight horses 
for a woman who ought to have been very thankful to be 
mounted aloft on the rump of a good Spanish donkey, as might 
be expected, soon left him without funds for necessaries. So 
that there was dearth in the kitchen, the stable, the servants' hall; 



316 COURT AMUSEMENTS. 

and, as Noailles quaintly remarks, the transition from joy to 
discontent is so rapid when the first excited expectations are not 
realised. The courtiers growled at their pensions being ab- 
stracted, and the people at finding no diminution of imposts. 
But they were greatly consoled by the reverential manner in 
which Philip behaved when he met the holy sacrament in the 
open streets : nevertheless, it is added, his personal religion kept 
at a respectful distance from national superstition. I make no 
doubt of it. He was invited to the gratification of witnessing 
an auto-da-fe — (a feast of faith !). On this occasion three Jews 
were to be roasted; it was held out to him as a great treat, a 
" divertissement royal." One of the ancient nobles, in urging 
Philip to be " there to see/' felicitated himself to his majesty 
upon never having missed any similar amusement, which was a 
grand act of religion ! In short, the Spaniards viewed bull- 
fights and broiling Jews as the English gentry do shooting and 
hunting. The king assured them that he should not be there. 

The court was very effeminate; every thing in Spain was 
carried on lazily ; and into this spirit Philip too readily sank. 
Nevertheless, the young king showed some sense and spirit. 
His uncle, Monsieur, the brother of Louis XIV., having written 
to him to the effect that he ought to have had the Spanish throne 
11 by right, and the grandeur of our house," Philip well answered 
— u right is a good reason, but grandeur proves nothing." He 
also gained honour from the following : every Friday the council 
of Castille met together in the throne-room for a vain and ridi- 
culous ceremony. The king entered covered, found them on 
their knees, sat down, then said to them, "Rise up!" They 
rose. "Sit down!" and they sat down. "Be covered!" and 
they put on their hats. This was all that occurred. Philip ex- 
pressed his surprise to the president, asking if nothing else ever 
passed? That functionary answered that, under Charles II. 
no more had ever passed ; but that under Philip IV. sometimes 
they had explained to him the judgments of the council. And, 
said the king, what did Philip IV. say ? The president told him 
that he said " Cela est bien." As for me, says Philip V., if I 
find it so, I shall say so ; but, if I see it otherwise, I shall say, 
" Cela est mal ! " They were disconcerted ; and it began to be 
augured that the young king would prove their master. 

Don Francisco de Velasco having presented a petition to the 
king, could procure no answer from his majesty. He presented 
another to the Cardinal Portocarrero, and was not attended to. 
He addressed himself to the president of Castille, and that mi- 
nister told him he could do nothing. At last he went to Har- 
court, the French ambassador, and the duke refused to meddle 
with the affair. In vexation, Velasco said: "What a govern- 
ment you form, gentlemen ! A king who speaks not, a cardinal 



MURMURS AT PHILIP. 317 

who listens not, a president who can't, and an ambassador who 
won't!" This became a standing mot at Madrid. Harcourt 
was unexpectedly seized with a mortal illness, and it became 
necessary to have another French adviser. The Duke de Beau- 
villiers was pitched upon by Philip, the cardinal, and the pre- 
sident. Many were the rising sources of disquietude — the people 
were discontented, impunity had gendered insolence, royal 
authority began to be slighted, bull-rights were discouraged. 
All excitements that called together an armed populace had been 
avoided, even under the late reign ; for such was the unpopularity 
of Charles that if ever he appeared in his carriage he was fol- 
lowed by the canaille, who greeted him with shouts of Mariecon! 
Neither the most delicate nor complimentary sobriquet. The 
queen was still less spared, so that for a long time they had 
pretty much lived prisoners within their palace. It was found 
necessary now to have a royal guard, as, to reform the state, 
it was indispensable to establish order : troops were necessary to 
secure finances ; and finances were necessary to secure troops. 

The people groaned under their taxes, and particularly felt 
the import duties, which worked so ill that only the rich could 
procure good provisions, while the most detestable fell to the 
lot of the poor. The French became uneasy at the increasing 
unpopularity of Philip, who neglected business, and was irregular 
in all his movements. While there was plenty of grumbling, 
sotto voce, nobody liked the task of remonstrating with his 
majesty; and the Spanish ministers begged Louville, the French 
envoy, to charge himself with this act of mentorship which they 
suggested he could season with plenty of honey ! He ventured 
to call the king's attention to the written advice his grandfather 
had given him at starting ; and Philip listened to his counsellor. 
The president also exhorted the young king to bestir himself, 
and exercise more decision in his affairs. This loyal Spaniard 
unfortunately so over-honied the edge of the cup that held the 
medicine as to tell him God had placed him at the head of the 
state, not only monarchically, but despotically; and that he 
might govern more as a despot than any sovereign in Christen- 
dom. So much so that the people were not permitted even to 
address his throne with complaints, unless he himself allowed 
them. De Noailles well remarks upon this — how much better 
it would have been to have inspired in the mind of this prince 
a generous confidence, and to have convinced him of the duty, 
and therefore wisdom, of labouring to fulfil the responsibilities 
to which he was called ! But, he adds, that the later kings had 
doubtless imagined that their angel was to do all their work 
for them. 

All Was tardily done : secretaries were quite saucy if urged 
to activity. On one occasion, Blecourt, the French envoy, 



318 SPANISH KITCHENS — FOOLS AND DWARFS. 

asked Ubilla, his secretary, if a despatch, that would not have 
taken a quarter of an hour to send off, was gone, as three weeks 
had elasped? " No," replied the official; " and if three months 
had elasped, I should not then hurry myself. Don't think you 
are going to alter our ways." The envoy answered, '* We'll see 
who is master," and the noise of this quarrel attracted the 
cardinal and the king. In truth, these slow Spaniards were 
annoyed at the energy of their new masters, the French. 
Another source of disquietude was found in Philip's reforming 
his kitchen : and oh ! to have seen an old Spanish kitchen is 
enough — without the olfactory nerves being called into exercise. 
Heaps -of rubbish in one part, decomposing vegetable matter in 
another, a live pig grunting in one corner, and a far more use- 
less animal, in the shape of a priest, snoring in another. Then 
the messes — slops — drabs of women, &c. But I must drop the 
curtain over this scene, or we may feel rather qualmish at our 
next symposium. Well, the whole troop of priests and pigs, 
mop-squeezers and cooks, were sent to the right-about, and of 
course were as vociferous in their exasperation as our worthy 
friends the Whigs, at lately being disturbed in their inglorious 
repose.! 

Noailles participates in the disgust Voltaire expresses at 
fools and dwarfs. One of the latter, presuming on the privilege 
of impertinence, always accompanied the king ; and once, see- 
ing him take off his hat to a duchess, he took upon him to 
lecture his majesty, telling him it was ridiculous — as a King of 
Spain should never uncover before any body. These creatures 
had extensive privileges ; they might at any time get into any of 
the royal carriages, they were used as spies and go-betweens, and 
altogether well earned the title of " vermin of the court." The 
grandees of Spain became very troublesome, they scarcely dis- 
guised their preference for the house of Austria, and, on the 
slightest occasions, evinced the utmost sourness. One of these 
turbulents, the Duke de Naxeta, General of the Galleys, having 
sent in his resignation, because he would not obey the Count 
d'Estrees — a Frenchman — the king ordered him not to approach 
the court within twenty miles. Now no Spaniard, who has a 
house at Madrid, imagines the possibility of existing any where 
else, so that it was thought this would prove an efficacious pu- 
nishment, without leading to revolt. 

The court of Rome wrote to Philip, requiring the re-esta- 
blishment of the grand-inquisitor ; but, although a cardinal, 
Portocarrero hated him too much to allow of his return. The 
papal nuncio addressed father Daubenton, the royal confessor, a 
French Jesuit — but he declined playing with edged tools. It is 
very extraordinary, replied the nuncio, that a religious and a 
Jesuit, too, should decline meddling with an affair recommended 



RICHES OF THE CHURCH. 319 

to him in the name ot the pope. The bewildered confessor con- 
sulted Louville, who strengthened his resolution ; and the nuncio 
proposed a middle course, that another inquisitor should be ap- 
pointed worthy of the office, that the purity of faith should not 
be injured. Oh, dear ! the worthy nuncio need not to have 
been at all afraid, lest the jmrity should be lost ; for it had all 
evaporated centuries before. The Society of Jesuits now as- 
sumed a very high tone, claiming great rights relative to the 
surveillance of church preferment, and other matters that greatly 
embroiled the court. The German confessor of the queen- 
dowager was a shrewd and vain-glorious character, greatly op- 
posed to French interests, and his intrigues were very injurious. 
As the queen wished to return to Madrid, Louis XIV. advised 
to allow her so to do ; but great difficulties were started as to 
allowing the confessor to accompany her. 

As the want of money was more and more felt, the French 
began to leer at the immense riches of the church in gold and 
silver, which increased vastly by the zeal of the credulous under 
the guidance of a priesthood equally zealous. Indeed, so great 
was the accumulation of coin among the religious that com- 
merce was seriously injured by the diminished circulation ; and, 
from Paris, advice was given to oblige the clergy to sell their 
money. The multitude of evils to be grappled with called for 
the recommendation of a standing army ; that the king should 
make a journey into Arragon, to swear to maintain their ancient 
privileges; to which end he must have a royal guard. He 
could then visit the different provinces, and sojourn a little at 
the principal noblemen's seats, so as to make himself known to 
all his people. It now was necessary, too, to go to Barcelona, 
for the purpose of receiving the Princess of Savoy. It was felt 
that, if the finances could be put in order, the foppery, of eti- 
quette abolished, and justice administered, Philip might get on 
as well living out of Madrid as by remaining within that ca- 
pital. Spanish pride never could gulp down the footing of 
equality on which the French dukes were placed with their own 
grandees, as it was a maxim with them that nothing could equal 
their own importance. 

But a greater difficulty, in the establishment of this Bourbon 
throne, existed in the hold of the priesthood upon the ignorant 
population, as they abused the confessional to exasperate the 
people against the monarchy. They began to .insinuate that the 
French were all heretics, as was the Spanish ambassador at 
Rome, because he sided with Bourbon interests. The people 
were told that the pope favoured the emperor, and then the fear- 
ful consequences of resisting his holiness, and all other motives 
likely to influence these superstitious beings, were dwelt upon. 
Neither need it be deemed a difficult matter thus to work on the 



320 FREKCH ARRIVALS AT MADRID. 

common people, when the nobility and gentry were, in this re* 
spect, little before them. On one occasion the king and court 
were out hunting; being overtaken by a thunder-storm, that pro- 
duced no ill effects, his gentlemen attributed his preservation to 
a little Indian bell-flower, which each had in his hand. The 
truth is, Spaniards have so great a dread of thunder that the 
king, unused to such fears, appeared a hero in their eyes. The 
king began now to manifest greater decision, being compelled 
more to fall upon his own resources from the illness of the Duke 
of Harcourt ; the underhand devices of ministers ; and the felt 
necessity to follow the good advice that had been given to him. 
Spain began to appreciate some of the palpable advantages of 
union with France, the ancient antipathy to that nation gave 
way by degrees ; and, above all, Philip began to learn how to 
govern. 

He was, however, tired of Madrid, and became very anxious 
to conclude his marriage. Philip's envoy had reached Turin, and 
the Duke of Savoy was also desirous of a speedy conclusion to 
the nuptials : but the indecision of this prince on other points 
gave great umbrage. However, as vast preparations were now 
making for the war, and the duke put himself at the head of 
his army in the interest of France, suspicion was lulled, and 
Louis XIV. recommended the marriage to proceed. It seems 
that they were not wholly relieved from anxiety, as they decided 
not to permit any of the Piedmontese, who accompanied the 
princess, to proceed farther than Barcelona. It was also agreed 
to watch the clergy in the more avowed interest of Austria, nei- 
ther to allow such ecclesiastics to be promoted to important 
places, nor to suffer any increase to the power of priests and 
monks. "While the French were travailing for the regeneration 
of Spain, a numerous squad of French outcasts arrived, allured 
by the hopes of plunder — wretched and depraved women — gens 
de sac et de corde (thieves entitled to the high honour of eleva- 
tion to the gallows) , wretches who disregarded confession, pick- 
pockets, and tetes sans cervelles (fools)— some under pretence of 
wanting employ, and others notoriously incapable of living but 
by infamy. It was determined to send back this David's troop, 
unless they could produce certificates from the ambassador. 
Marsin decided on the propriety of ordering off all " Francois" 
who had no visible means of livelihood — a wise precaution 
in a country where it was so evidently necessary to sustain the 
honour of France. And, perhaps, it would not be amiss to 
extend the regulation to other cities. 

Philip V. started on September 5, 1701, on his journey, leav- 
ing all authority in the hands of Cardinal Portocarrero. In the 
carriage with the king was the Comte de Marsin, that nobleman 
having been appointed to superintend the necessarily important 



DISPUTES FOR PRECEDENCY. 321 

arrangements. At the moment of his departure, owing to the 
negligence of the authorities, a great number of beggars* sur- 
rounded Philip, clamorously demanding alms. Among them 
was a Polish priest, who, receiving nothing, vomited out the 
most daring abuse, in the true Shimei style, standing by the 
cardinal, without being reproved by any one. M. de Blecourt 
marked the ruffian's person, and on informing Portocarrero, the 
offender was apprehended, and the cardinal said he should be 
punished, in case of a popular rising. By Philip's orders, the 
materials of which the furniture for the palace was to be made 
were sent by the Marquis de Villafranca to a French upholsterer. 
So prejudiced were the Spaniards that it was found necessary 
to procure a formal order from the king to bring the upholste- 
rer to reside in Spain, as a Spaniard. In Arragon and Castille, 
Philip was received with lively demonstrations of joy; the evil 
reports spread by the enemies to the house of Bourbon were 
dissipated wheresoever he appeared. At Sarragosa, which he 
entered on horseback, so prodigious a crowd received him that 
he could hardly proceed. Such was the warmth manifested that 
Marsin informs us it proceeded to wild fury, even idolatry. 
They strove to touch his garment (what a contrast with another 
memorable occasion on which the poor woman sought to touch 
another garment!), and, in short, followed the usual routine of 
adulation to royalty. He was compelled to take his meals in 
public, that his high-minded subjects might be " enchanted with 
his amiable physiognomy — blending sweetness with dignity" — 
says a French cotemporary. 

The Count de Berallada, one of the chief seigneurs of Arra- 
gon, made the king a present of 12 superb horses, magnificently 
caparisoned. A squabble now arose between the deputies of 
the inquisition and those of the kingdom, as to which should 
first kiss the royal hand. Philip had sense and spirit enough 
to decide against the pretensions of the church. Arrived at 
Barcelona, he had to stay much longer than he expected, as the 
queen had suffered greatly on board the ship which was to have 
carried her to Barcelona ; and she therefore had put in at Mar- 
seilles, and was proceeding by land. Being tired of waiting, 
and wanting money, hearing of a seditious rising at Naples, it 
put it into his head to pass over to Italy, and place himself at 
the head of the army in his Italian dominions. How undig- 
nified this want of money sounds ! One almost wonders at the 
French historian's mention of such sublunary necessities — as if 
the landord of the inn would not trust his king ! He wrote to 
that effect to Louis, and expressed a vigour of design that, 
however, in him always was followed by the want of vigour of 
execution. 

Maria-Louisa, of Savoy, only 13 years old, was a petite, but 



322 

of a charming figure, clear and beautiful skin, and lively and 
soft-eyes. She was well endowed with sense and sprightliness, 
gracious and amiable, and yet not wanting in stateliness ; in 
short, she played the queen a merveille. Notwithstanding the 
tears and entreaties of this young princess, all the Piedmontese 
were compelled to return. At the last ceremonies of the mar- 
riage, joy was changed for sorrow, for Maria-Louisa burst out 
into a flood of bitter tears — the motive could not be guessed. 
It was thought, says Noailles, that she had been incited thereto 
by way of procuring a counter-order as to the sending away of 
her friends. It is not to be supposed that this sudden flow of 
grief had any other cause than the separation from the home of 
her parents, and the companions of her childhood. But Lou- 
ville, Marsin, and the Princess des Ursins, formed themselves 
into a committee on this not very unusual manifestation of feel- 
ing — I suppose unknown to the French — and decided on an 
immediate and temporary separation; the princess expressing 
in a letter her opinion that it exhibited a design in this lovely 
girl of 13 to govern her husband ! 

Louis wrote to Philip, warning him of the horrors of uxori- 
ousness — a visitation that certainly had never befallen the Grand 
Monarque himself. He was to view her as his highest subject, 
in which capacity, and as a wife, obedience was her portion ; he 
was to love her, but, if her tears prevailed, why he might be 
led into something or other contrary to his glory ! This Prin- 
cess of the Ursins was put over the young queen as a spy ; she 
was never to let her receive foreign ambassadors, unless she 
were present. And as they were apprehensive of the marital 
affection of Philip, this same clever woman was to see that he 
was not too much swayed by his new and captivating consort. 
It was discovered that this was hopeless, therefore " la Prin- 
cesse des Ursins " had to watch over them both, at the especial 
suggestion of M. de Torci, the French minister, who saw that 
Philip would readily fall under the influence of one who obtained 
his confidence. She succeeded at last also with the queen, who 
was not so mouldable as her consort. The princess had attain- 
ed an age when the passions of youth are quenched, having 
been married to her first husband in 1659, exactly 40 years 
before, the Prince de Chalais (Taleiran). 

This celebrated lady's numerous occupations are drawn with 
ability and interest in her extant correspondence, and the nature 
of the functions she exercised will be readily intelligible to my 
reader, by quoting one of her own letters to Noailles. u In 
what employ, good heavens, have you placed me. I get not 
the least repose, not being able even to find time to speak to 
my secretary. It is no longer practicable to take a nap after 
dinner, nor to eat when I am hungry. I esteem it a great hap- 



THE PRINCESSE DES URSINS. 323 

piness to make a wretched repast while on the move ; and it is 
very rare that I am not called the moment I sit down to table. 
In good truth, Madame de Maintenon would heartily laugh ii 
she knew the details of my occupation. Tell her, I beg, it is 
I who have the honour to carry the * robe^de-chambre ' of the 
king of Spain, when he goes to bed ; and to give him his slip- 
pers when he gets up. So far I am tolerably patient; but when 
I tell you that the Count de Benavento has given into my 
charge, when the king goes into the queen's bed-room to sleep, 
to carry his majesty's sword, a chamber-pot, and a lamp, the 
oil of which I generally spill on my garments, you will think 
that rather too grotesque. The king will never get up till I 
have drawn his curtains ; and it would be little short of sacrilege 
for any body but myself to enter their chamber when they are 
in bed. Latterly, the lamp has not burnt till daylight, because 
I have spilled the oil ; and I have been unable to find the win- 
dows, it has been so dark. In groping about, I nearly broke my 
nose against the wall ; and the king and I have sometimes been 
a quarter of an hour butting each other in feeling about in the 
dark. His majesty and I agree so well that sometimes he calls 
me two hours before I wish to get up. The queen will join in 
these pleasantries; nevertheless, I have not secured with her 
that degree of confidence which she gives to the Piedmontese 
femme-de-chambre. I feel surprised, as I serve her better than 
they do, and I am sure that they neither pull off her stockings, 
nor wash her feet, so well as I do." 

Philip became very anxious to proceed to the seat of war in 
Italy. But just now he fell ill with a fever, of which he shortly 
recovered. The treasury was suffering under a very common 
disease, not reducible by the same appliances, that Noailles 
naively describes as "grand embarras pour avoir de Targent ; " 
and although Barcelona, and other cities contributed largely, it 
was nothing compared with the requirements. Orders were 
sent to the new viceroy of Naples to seize the third of the 
revenues of the Genoese and other strangers in the kingdom — 
giving them the consolatory assurance, in exchange, that it 
should all be returned when the affairs of the state rendered it 
convenient ! To add to their fiscal atrophy, the fleet did not 
arrive from India, as the viceroy of Mexico had stopped it, and 
was suspected of treason. The indifference to serve in the war 
increased among the common people, and none of the young 
men were solicitous to follow the king to Italy. A general 
coolness pervaded all ranks of Spaniards, and fears of popular 
out-breaks added to the anxieties of the government. Still 
Philip was anxious to commence his voyage. He had just ral- 
lied from a relapse ; his complaint had turned to measles, with 



324 PHILIP IS BALD. 

inflammation of the lungs, though his illness had in no way 
diminished his ardour to make a campaign. 

He wished the queen to accompany him, but this was op- 
posed by Louis XIV., as it was thought, among other reasons, 
that the national antipathies of the Spaniards might be roused 
by reports that both king and queen meant no more to come 
back; and therefore that the queen must remain at Madrid as a 
hostage for the return of the king. The young couple were 
now tenderly attached, and from the moment state reasons had 
been suggested as demanding a temporary separation, they had 
bitterly felt the necessity ; but at length a reluctant consent was 
wrung from them. Amidst these national difficulties and con- 
jugal regrets, the French at the court of Spain were absorbed by 
a matter the importance of which, although it may be difficult 
for us now to estimate it, caused a correspondence between one 
of the resident French ministers and the minister of the day at 
Paris, and called forth a gravity from the proud dons worthy of 
English mutes. I would thus cautiously prepare my reader for 
the solemn occasion, and gently break the astounding affair to 
him ; but, like other serious communications, it must out at 
at last : — 

The King of Spain wanted a wig ! The record stands forth 
with almost a sentimental flourish from the pen of this French 
marshal and minister of state, who would avert ail ridicule, by 
observing that, in all human affairs, there is a strange mixture 
of fantastical, serious, and frivolous. Perhaps, not in all; but 
w r e allow it to be so with with French affairs. He introduces 
this amidst " affaires si importantes," and the fearful fact is 
broadly stated, when the historian has brought his courage up to 
the mark, and he trusts his reader may be in some degree pre- 
pared for the shock ; " le roi avoit perdu ses cheveux" — as we 
should say, he had become bald ! The Spaniards " on le coeffoit 
horriblement mal," and the queen almost went into fits. Chang- 
ing a perruquier, gravely observes the French minister of state, is 
no trifle. The Spaniards took another, and even more solemn, 
view of the matter ; they said their king ought not to wear a wig, 
except it were made of the hair of young ladies, or of cavaliers. 
The Count Benavento improved even on this, and insisted that 
it ought to be hair off the head of knowm characters, for that 
there was often witchcraft in hair ! and that serious calamities 
had happened therefrom. Thus, " Taffaire est de grande conse- 
quence, et qu'il n'y faut rien negliger." How deeply do I 
regret to inform my reader of the abrupt termination of the 
account. For just then news of great importance attracted the 
attention of the historian, and we are left in the dark as to the 
sequel. And until the march of intellect shall drag from the 



PRETENDED MIRACLES. 325 

recesses of Spanish archives the absorbing record ; yes, until 
then, a trio of eventful queries, in three different countries, 
France, Spain, and England, must remain unsolved :— who was 
the man in the iron mask ; who was Junius : what wig was 
finally ordered by the two courts of Spain ^md France, to cover 
the cerve/les of Philip V. ? 

Philip sent the order of the " toison d'or," and patents of 
nobility to the Due d'Harcourt, yet lingering in illness, and to 
the Comte d'Ayens ; and the Comte d'Estrees was created grandee 
of Spain, of the first class. Accompanied by De Marsin, De 
Louville, De Montriel, with a select number of Spanish nobles, 
the king embarked on the 8th of April, 1702, and on the 17th 
arrived at Naples, being received by the acclamations of the 
people, "ravi de le voir." They had long groaned under the 
yoke of the Spanish viceroys, stern, haughty and grasping, and 
were transported with delight to behold their young monarch. 
He was mild, pleasing, and accessible, and announced himself 
to them as the defender and father of the kingdom. Philip 
remitted all arrears due to the crown, valued at 3,000,000 ecus. 
While this was a politic and popular measure, worthy of the gra- 
titude of the people, it was utterly impossible to levy it, there- 
fore he showed his wisdom in making a merit of necessity. 
With certain indispensable exceptions, the king released all 
prisoners, and granted an indemnity to all political offenders. 

So far from viewing with horror bread cheap, Philip had 
sense and justice enough to exert himself to lower the price of 
corn, satisfied with present good, and not imagining how it could 
be wise to cling to known and serious evils, lest unexpected in- 
convenience should afterwards result ; least of all justifying the 
sacrifice of the many for the few. Who does not pity the dark- 
ness of this poor ignorant king, whose errors must have been 
so gross, when, a century and a half afterwards we, in England, 
the land of political economy, and all the other fine things which 
make us the " envy of surrounding nations, and the admiration 
of the world," see that all the disinterested efforts of " those in 
authority over us" are bent to the very opposite point ! That ' 
cheapness and plethora are objects of dread, and that it has been 
found necessary so to frame and uphold our laws that the prac- 
tical result is attained of depriving the poor of at least one loaf 
out of five. But the march of intellect has taught us better, and 
given us immense advantages over this weak young monarch. 

By way of a rich treat to Philip, it was decided to perform 
the miracle of St. Janvier at the cathedral. The Cardinal Can- 
telmi, Archbishop of Naples, was to be principal performer, and 
as the Roman Catholic narrator assures us, Le was full of faith 
and zeal that this miracle would relieve them under the difficul- 
ties of the conjuncture. So the king was paraded to the cathe- 



326 BENEFITS OF SAINTS. 

dral, ''entendre la messe" — and a pretty mess they made of it. 
The reliques of the saint were brought out, and, by the side of 
the head, they placed the phial that contained the blood — the 
miracle consisted in the coagulation becoming liquid, which the 
cardinal announced as sure to occur. Well, they all went to 
prayers, but no effect : they said the mass over again — the king 
thought once enough. They said it again — still no miracle — so 
they went through the mass six times — occupying two hours. 
Philip at last was quite ashamed; and, dreadfully wanting his 
dinner, retired, leaving the poor cardinal overwhelmed with 
mortification. However they followed the king, to assure him 
that the " miracle took place immediately after he left !" Lou- 
ville, who seems to have been no u reviver of ancient discipline/' 
told them that, without any impiety, he could believe it would 
prove infallible during the dog-days, but that it was a clear tempt- 
ing of Providence to try it on so cold an April morning ! The 
people were satisfied, and the cardinal maintained his honour 
was preserved. 

The viceroy was the Duke d'Escalone, a man altogether un- 
suited, by bigotry and ignorance, to his post. Louville said of 
him that he had " the air of the burser of a college, with all his 
pedantry. Sometimes he has a reason, but when he has not, 
which generally is the case, the seven sages of Greece could not 
turn him." To calm certain disquietudes, and to inspire respect 
and submission to the king, it was determined, on the 6th of May, 
to fetch out the blood and bones of St Janvier, as this reason- 
ing and intellectual people would almost have thought it neces- 
sary to have dethroned the young king without a farther tes- 
timony of divine approbation. Noailles naively says, who would 
object to the use of superstition when popular discontent can be 
allayed thereby ? They had managed matters better this time; 
the " miracle" was promptly accomplished ; and the people were 
delighted by Philip declaring St. Janvier the second patron of 
Spain. To establish this benefit the pope granted a brief! 
Clergy and laity were ravished with the glory accruing to their 
old saint; but the Spaniards were greatly distressed by the ap- 
pointment of a " co-pastor" to St. Jacques, whose powers, they 
justly thought, remained as extensive as ever. 

Every thing was in a state of abuse and distraction now at 
Naples, the Neapolitans complaining of the favour shown to 
the Spaniards — and the Spaniards treating the Neapolitans with 
contempt. Philip was a prey to melancholy from the clamorous 
and clashing interests by which he was tormented ; and writes 
pathetically to Louis XIV., deploring the cabals by which he is 
surrounded. He saw little zeal among the Spaniards for his ser- 
vice, and laments that, whether in small matters or great affairs, 
it seemed their delight to oppose him; and, in short, that he 



THE FRENCH AND SPANIARDS. 327 

clearly perceived he could only get on with plenty of troops . 
He fell into greater abstraction, at length becoming incapable 
of almost anything, he sorely felt the absence of the queen, 
to whom he was devotedly attached. " Ces noires vapeurs" 
alarmed his more immediate circle ; but the applied remedies 
produced some effect, and they prevailed on him to take more 
exercise. 

Fresh vexations arose from quarrels between the French and 
the Spaniards at Naples, during which the Austrian party began 
to make head ; and Philip now saw that his only reliance was on 
French soldiers. Thus this royal progress to his Neapolitan do- 
minions, that had opened so fairly, turned out miserably, by 
calling up the exhibition of the evils of the state. The vices of 
the old Spanish government had created an irreconcileable ha- 
tred between the two races. The abuses of every kind had poi- 
soned the sources of the public welfare, here as well as in Spain ; 
and the worst feature of the public confusion was a conviction, 
strengthened by the unavailing presence of the monarch, that 
it was a moral impossibility to remedy all these evils, except in 
a state of repose, of which the war destroyed all hope. To that 
war, and its important influence on Louis XIV., we must now 
turn. 



u 2 



328 ILL HEALTH OF WILLIAM III. 



SECTION VI. 



The war recommences in Italy — Declining health of William III. — 
Deaths of Tillotson, Queen Mary, and William — Accession of Queen 
Anne — Barbesieux, Chamlay, Pontchartrain, Pomponne, Prince Eu- 
gene of Savoy, Catinat, Villeroi, Duke of Savo} r , Marlborough, Godol- 
phin — Rapid conquests — Villars — Blenheim — Eamillies— Louis' depres- 
sion — Turin relieved — Futile attempt of " the Pretender " upon Eng- 
land — New disasters of the French in the Low Countries — Fall of Lille — 
The English take Gibraltar — The English in Spain — Continued depres- 
sion of France — Pride of Holland — Louis agrees to abandon Spain — 
Malplaquet — Duke of Orleans and Philip V. — The Whigs out, and the 
Tories change the counsels of England — Injustice to the Duke of Marl- 
borough — Queen Anne's treachery — Deaths of the Dauphin, the Empe- 
ror Joseph, the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy, and their eldest son — 
Distraction of Louis XIV. — Favourable change for France — Peace of 
Utrecht — Death of Queen Anne — Duke of Marlborough, in old age and 
retirement — Death of both Duke and Duchess. 

The brazen throat of Bellona now again first issued her dread- 
ful sounds in Italy. Nominally the war was between Spain and 
Germany ; the troops of the latter empire being commanded by 
Prince Eugene, and those of Spain by the Prince de Vaude- 
mont ; while the army of France in that quarter was under Mar- 
shal Catinat, with whom the Duke of Savoy nominally acted. 
In Italy, Leopold's arms could most easily penetrate by the way 
of Tirol and Venice ; for this republic, though neutral in ap- 
pearance, was more inclined to the house of Austria than Bour- 
bon, and was obliged by treaty to give a passage to German 
troops. The emperor w r aited till the Germanic body should 
come over to his interest, before he w r ould attack Louis on the 
side of Germany. His party in Spain was useless, unless one 
of his sons was in person there ; and this could not be effected 
without the aid of the Dutch and English fleets. William III., 
sensible of his ow r n declining health, his body weak, and almost 
lifeless, with an unimpaired vigour of understanding, saw the 
necessity for the maintenance of that system, which it had been 
the labour of his life to uphold. 

He was the pivot on which every thing turned : the one ob- 
ject ever before his eyes, being to humble the proud and power- 
ful house of Bourbon ; who had ever proved the ready tools of 
priestly domination, that in all ages it appears to have been 
their grand desire to uphold,, at the cost of liberty, moral, intel- 



INDIGNATION AGAINST HIGH-CHURCH. 329 

lectual, and spiritual. Like Samson, William did more execu- 
tion at his death than in his life. He appointed Marlborough, 
knowing his super-eminent fitness, though never attached to 
him, general of the foot, and commander of the forces in Hol- 
land ; also plenipotentiary for the negotiations then carrying on 
at the Hague, having for their object the renewal of the grand 
alliance among the foreign powers. By virtue whereof the 
Dutch were to furnish 10,000 men; the emperor, 90,000; and 
the English, 40,000. Notwithstanding the marriage of the 
Duke of Savoy's two daughters to the King of Spain and the 
Duke of Burgundy (by which latter she was probably destined 
to be Queen of France), he had shown himself to be too trea- 
cherous to be depended upon. The smaller states were ready 
to follow the strongest ; so that the coming storm attracted the 
anxious attention of all Europe. Louis ordered his generals 
to avoid any acts of aggression, especially not to violate the 
Venetian territory. 

By this time, the wretched being whose dishonoured head 
had so long been hidden in France, James II., had gone down 
to the generation of his fathers (see p. 257). A grand discussion 
arose in France, as to whether or not it was the policy of that 
court to acknowledge his (suppositious) son, which, under the 
persuasion of Madame de Maintenon, ended in a public pro- 
clamation of James III. at St. Germains; and this recog- 
nition was all either he or his (happily) extinct descendants ever 
secured of their monarchy ! England was thoroughly roused by 
this daring insult — always excepting the ultra churchmen ; they, 
caring little who wields the sceptre, if that state of things exists 
which keeps mother-church paramount, longed for James, and 
therefore detested William. Their coryphceus, Dr. Johnson, 
in after years, called him " that scoundrel William." Indeed 
we can very readily understand what a scoundrel he must have 
been deemed, when we see that he would not ravage and des- 
troy the religious liberties of his dissenting subjects, nor join 
the high-flyers in trampling on those godly clergy who were 
zealous for evangelical religion. Of the church, and her cruel 
and haughty prelates and leaders of those days, we may say, 
relative to the party in her bosom whom they would have 
hung, drawn, and quartered, if they could — " 'twas well for 
thee that salt preserv'd thee still." 

So great was the public indignation, at seeing a foreign 
power presume to dictate who should reign over us, that they 
were compelled to enjoy their anticipations in secret, and in 
public to feign accordance with the swelling torrent. This was 
no difficult task for gentlemen who had of late been trained to 
so many " quick turns." A new parliament now met; and, as 
the prodigious efforts to secure a high tory majority, which the 



330 CRUEL PERSECUTION 

jacobite gentry and the high-church clergy joined in, had been 
defeated, the House of Commons began a bill of attainder against 
the pretended Prince of Wales. It was sent up to the House of 
Lords, and passed, with an attainder of the queen, who acted as 
queen-regent for him. Another act was proposed, to oblige all 
persons to take an oath of abjuration; all employments in 
church and state were to be subject to this, and an obligation 
was added to maintain the church of England, together with 
toleration for dissenters. Some wished it to be optional to take 
this oath, but in the lords it was carried by one vote to impose 
it. Some, who better understood the principles of liberty, en- 
deavoured to slide in a clause to the effect that the government 
of England was in king, lords, and commons. The drift was 
scented by the " Anglicans," who caused it to be rejected with 
indignation, since the government was only in the king — the 
lords and the commons being simply a legislative body ! So 
we see why the ultra church should ever, detesting a liberal 
sovereign, watch and pray for such as will prove ready tools in 
their hands. 

Death had been sweeping away numbers of the important 
personages who had figured on the stage of life. Among the 
excellent of the earth, Archbishop Tillotson had been called 
from this scene of turmoil, Nov. 24, 1694, His father was a 
clothier, and a strict Calvinist : he sent this son John to Cam- 
bridge, who, after his academical course, became tutor to 
Mr. Prideaux, of Devonshire, and afterwards curate to his friend, 
Dr. Wilkins, at St. Lawrence Jewry. After the revolution, he 
was curate of Cheshunt, and, in 1663, was promoted to the 
rectory of Keddington ; this he resigned for the preachership 
of Lincoln's-inn. In 1664, he was chosen Tuesday -lecturer of 
St. Lawrence, and directed his popular abilities against popery 
and atheism. In 1666, he took his degree of D.D., and was 
promoted to a prebend at Canterbury, and also of St. Paul's; 
and, 1762, was made dean of Canterbury. He attended his 
friend Lord Russel, when condemned to die, in consequence of 
the Rye-house plot ; and he strongly urged him to admit the 
doctrine of non-resistance, for which he was justly censured, and 
afterwards censured himself. In 1689, he was made clerk of 
the closet to William III., and was greatly esteemed by both 
king and queen. When the high-flyer Sancroft (who had died 
a year before Tillotson in a despicable manner, says Burnet) 
refused to take the oaths, he was nominated to the see of Can- 
terbury. Of course Tillotson was the object of virulence and 
malice to the " revivers of discipline," and his determinate 
efforts to cure the abuses of the church, introducing greater 
regularity, and a more strict residence among the clergy, 
brought those holy men upon him like a hornet's nest. He was 



OF TILLOTSON. 331 

deluged with libels in the form of letters, full of invectives and 
malicious insinuations ; these he tied up in a bundle : they were 
found after his death, and on them was written with his own 
hand, " These are libels — I pray God forgive them — as I do." 
His peace was corroded by these assassins of the cloth, and the 
cares attendant upon his exalted station were felt and recorded 
by him with all the resignation of a Christian philosopher. 
This may remind the reader that what appears to a distant 
spectator real grandeur, and perfect happiness, is too often ex- 
perienced, by the unhappy possessor, to be a source of misery, 
vexation and trouble. 

Dr. Lempriere in somewhat this way describes this great and 
good man. Noble, in his Continuation of Grainger, says, that 
44 His integrity and freedom from avarice are attested by the fact 
that his widow, a niece of Oliver Cromwell (and may not much 
that w T as so estimable thus indirectly be traced to the great pro- 
tector ?) was supported by the bounty of King William." Til- 
lotson was struck with a fit of the dead palsy, in November, at 
the chapel at Whitehall, on a Sunday, while at worship. He 
felt it coming on, but, not thinking it decent to interrupt the 
public service, he neglected it too long ; so that all remedies 
were unavailing, and he died within five days from his seizure. 
" His speech was a good deal affected, but, still calm and serene, 
in broken words, he thanked God he was quiet within, and had 
nothing to do but to wait the will of heaven." Nothing about 
chrisms, pixes, white gowns, saints' days, or genuflexions ! 
Burnet was his intimate friend, and preached his funeral sermon. 
He says of this good and humble archbishop, " he was a man 
of the truest judgment and best temper I had ever known : he 
had a clear head, with a most tender and compassionate heart: 
he was a faithful and zealous friend, but a gentle and soon- con- 
quered enemy. He w T as truly and seriously religious, but with- 
out affectation, bigotry or superstition : his notions of morality 
were fine and sublime : his thread of reasoning was easy, clear 
and solid : he was not only the best preacher of the age, but 
seemed to have brought preaching to perfection. His parts 
remained with him clear and unclouded; but the perpetual 
slanders and other ill usage he had been followed with for so 
many years, most particularly since his advancement to that 
great post, gave him too much trouble and too deep a concern. 
It neither could provoke him, nor fright him from his duty ; 
but it affected his mind so much that this was thought to have 
shortened his days." The " church," at least that detestable 
portion who see no more than the outworks, had persisted in 
viewing Sancroft as the " archbishop," and Tillotson as " an 
usurper," and all that joined with Tillotson were, in their style, 
" schismatics." 



332 ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON's DEATH. 

These clericals had now hunted hini to the death, had de- 
stroyed the body ; 'twas all that they could do. His now freed 
spirit was out of their reach — had been carried by angels into 
Abraham's bosom, and I will venture to predict that he was 
never more troubled with any " rubrician ! " We make but 
little practical use of this and similar pages of history unless we 
adore the mercy of that God who has promised to preserve his 
real church and people, even to the end ; and implore without 
ceasing that he will never abandon us to that daring pretension 
which would crush all who will not bow down to the image that 
they have set up. The gentle archbishop died poor ; he had 
nothing to leave his widow but the copy-right of his posthu- 
mous sermons, which sold for £2,500 — a large sum in those 
days. The king granted a pension to her of £400 per annum, 
and forgave his first fruits, or his debts could not have been 
paid. Thus he had no idea of amassing large wealth out of the 
revenues entrusted to his stewardship for godly purposes ; he 
was poor in money, but rich in good works. 

Both their majesties were greatly affected by the death of 
this eminent man ; for several days the queen could not speak 
of him without tears. Queen Mary had never had the small- 
pox, and as during that winter it raged dreadfully about Lon- 
don, several thousands dying of this shocking complaint, great 
apprehensions were entertained as to the queen. At length 
she was taken ill, but it seemed to go off: the next day 
she went out ; but her illness returned so decidedly that she 
could disguise it no longer. She shut herself up in her closet 
that night, and burned many papers, and put the rest in order. 
After this, she used some slight remedies, — treating it only as 
a passing indisposition ; but it increased upon her, and within 
two days the small-pox appeared, and with very bad symptoms. 
Dr. Ratciiffe was called in, but not till human skill availed not ; 
other physicians also declared it was too late. Burnet says the 
king was struck beyond description. Calling the good bishop 
into his closet, he burst into tears, saying there was no hope of 
the queen ; and that, from being the most happy, he was now 
going to be the most miserable, creature on the earth. He said, 
during the whole course of their marriage, he had never known 
one single fault in her, there being a worth in her which nobody 
knew but himself. Never was there such a face of universal 
sorrow seen in a court, or a town ; all people, young and old, 
scarcely refraining from tears. On Christmas-Day, matters 
seemed to take a more favourable turn, and it was hoped it 
might end in the measles, — but this hope faded before night. 
The new archbishop, Tennison, attended her, and when her con- 
dition was placed beyond doubt, he told the king he could not 
avoid, in the faithful discharge of his duty, acquainting her with 



DEATH-BED OF THE QUEEN. 333 

the danger she was in. In this proper resolution William ac- 
quiesced, saying he would not have her deceived in so impor- 
tant a matter. 

Mary soon caught the drift of the archbishop, but mani- 
fested neither surprise nor dread, blessing God she had been 
enabled to " carry this in her mind, that nothing was left to the 
last hour," as she now had nothing to do but to look up to God 
and submit to his will. In this calm state of resignation— even 
more than resignation — desiring; death rather than life, she 
continued to the last. Having formerly written her mind in 
many particulars to the king, she now gave orders to look for a 
small scrutoire that she made use of, and that it should be de- 
livered to the king. She was almost perpetually in prayer : the 
day before her death, she received the sacrament ; apprehending 
she should not be able to swallow the bread, she was in some 
concern, but she was favoured in this beyond her fears. Her 
slumbers afforded her no refreshment, — she said nothing did 
her good but prayer. Attempting to speak to the king she 
could not plainly articulate : and now, requesting the archbishop 
to be reading to her such passages of scripture as might fix her 
attention and raise her devotion, she composed herself solemnly 
to die. They attempted in vain to give her cordials — she lay 
silent for some hours ; and her spirit returned to God who gave 
it, on December 28, 1694, in the 33rd year of her age, and in the 
sixth of her reign. Noble says that " this character of Queen 
Mary has not been controverted : that the mutual affection of 
her and the king was certainly genuine. Her private letters 
express naturally her love for him; and, after he was dead, a 
bracelet of her hair was found upon his arm." 

During the time that all Europe had been excited about the 
effects of the approaching death of the King of Spain, England 
was surprised by a painfully distressing and unlooked-for occur- 
rence, which presented a great change on the face of affairs, in 
the demise of the Duke of Gloucester. During the two years 
that Burnet had been entrusted with his education, he had made 
astonishing progress. The worthy bishop had read and ex- 
plained much of the Scriptures to him, and was delighted to 
witness his proficiency in understanding. His tutor then had 
shown him the forms of government of every country, and the 
interests of trade (I suspect poor dear old Burnet was a little 
out of his element here) ! The young prince was well versed in 
geography, and then was made acquainted with all the great 
revolutions of the world, the histories of Greece and Rome, and 
read Plutarch's Lives. Burnet and he spent some hours every 
day conversing on these subjects. King William, who was very 
anxious for the sound education of his successor on the throne, 
frequently sent his ministers to examine the prince, and they 



334 DEATH OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

were much pleased with his progress, being struck with his 
memory and judgment. 

The duke had been weakly from his birth. On the 24th 
July, he attained his eleventh year; and, the day after, com- 
plained a little, but it was attributed to the fatigues of his 
birth-day amusements. The next day, he was worse, — it now 
proved to be a malignant fever ; and he was carried off on the 
fourth day. He was the only remaining child of seventeen 
which the princess Anne had born ! She attended him to the 
last with tender composure, astonishing everybody to witness 
the support she received : and who can enter into the feelings 
of a royal mother under such unparalleled circumstances ! It 
appeared a great blow to England; was the cause of general sor- 
row, always excepting the Jacobites and high-church who saw 
fresh hopes hereby of the ultimate return of their darling 
Stuarts. In the deaths of Queen Mary and the Duke of Glou- 
cester, Burnet remarks on the fondness with which we look at 
matters as constituting our security ; as in this case two, out of 
the four, the distressed dissenters and moderate churchmen, or, 
in other words, the true lovers of their country, looked up to, 
were taken from the evil to come, while all issue from either the 
king or the Princess Anne was hopeless. The eyes of all good 
men were turned to the house of Brunswick, the electoress 
being the next protestant heir. 

We have seen how poor Tillotson was hunted to his death : 
the same blood-hounds had long watched the slot of William. 
His health was evidently failing at the period of the demise 
of his good queen, and the many discontents fermented by the 
" dignitaries" of the church, always pointing popular odium to 
William's person and government, caused him to regret he had 
ever come over to England, and added perpetual disquietude to 
the great grief he suffered for the loss of his beloved consort. 
His clear mind plainly saw that high churchism was the incubus 
of our country, and no efforts of the priesthood could induce 
him to suffer them to roast the dissenters, as the Spaniards did 
the Jews. " The toleration of all the sects here had made us 
live more quietly together of late than could be expected,' 7 ob- 
serves Burnet, " when severe laws were rigorously executed 
against dissenters. No tumults nor disorders had been heard of 
in any part of the kingdom these eleven years, since that act 
had passed : and yet the much greater part of the clergy studied 
to blow up this fire again, which seemed to be now as it were 
covered with ashes." " As it was in the beginning, is now," &c. 

But no Puseyite priests could turn William ; he had been 
raised up of God for a great work — it was now accomplished, 
as much in the plans he was about to leave in operation, as in 
those he had cherished in his life-time. The attentive reader 



FINAL ILLNESS OF THE K1ING. 335 

of history should trace matters to their source ; and see the 
sudden " wheel-about' ? made by the clergy who had invited him 
over to crush the efforts of James ; doubtless ultimately directed 
to the up-rearing of popery, but, as a means to an end, first 
granting large measures of liberty to all the sects. Indeed it 
is strongly to be suspected that mother church more dreaded 
presbyterianism than popery. Then see, when William was 
firmly seated on the throne, and would not persecute the godly, 
how the hierarchy whipped round, making affinity with the Jaco- 
bite and papist party, keeping up a spirit of discontent and tur- 
moil for the whole of this reign, as if there were but one object 
for the efforts of Britain's bane — to put down true religion. 

The rolling years had found William's feeble frame more and 
more fragile; but, in the winter of 1701, he seemed to rally; 
and, having decorated the apartments at Hampton Court, he was 
so much pleased with the place that he went there once a week, 
and often rode about the park. In February, 1702, the horse 
on which he rode stumbled, and he, being very feeble, fell off, 
and broke his collar-bone: the bone was well set, and there 
appeared no danger. He was taken to Kensington that night. 
Himself long aware of his gradually sinking condition, he had 
said, before this accident, to the Earl of Portland, what he now 
repeated, that he was a dead man. That it was neither in his 
legs (which had frequently swollen) nor in his collar-bone, but 
that he felt himself ill — all was decayed within — and he was sure 
he could not get through another campaign. During his illness 
he sent a message to the two houses, recommending the union 
of "both kingdoms to them, which he viewed as favouring the 
protestant succession : the Jacobites, &c, were just then too 
strongly opposed to this measure. On March 3, the king had a 
fit of ague, but he payed no attention to it ; next day he had a 
return of it, and Burnet, who was much with him, saw an evi- 
dent change for the worse. He kept his bed till Friday, by when 
he was fast sinking, as his breathing had become difficult, and 
his pulse sunk. 

The Earl of Albemarle had been sent to Holland to prepare 
everything for an early campaign, and he returned on the 7th 
of March, in the morning, with tidings that everything appeared 
satisfactory : but William was little attracted by such matters 
now. He said, " Je tire vers ma fin" (I draw towards my end). 
He signed a special commission to pass certain bills, and signed 
also the act of abjuration — which thus passed on the last day of 
his life. Burnet and Tennison went to him on Saturday morning, 
and did not stir from him till he died. The archbishop prayed 
some time with him, but he was then so weak he could scarcely 
speak ; the king gave him his hand, as a sign that he firmly be- 
lieved the truth of the christian religion, and said he intended 



336 William's edifying e.\u, 

to receive the sacrament. About five o'clock in the moraine:, he 
partook thereof very devoutly. He rallied a little, and called for 
the Earl of Albemarle, and gave him a charge to take care of his 
papers. He thanked his principal physician for his attention, 
and said, " I know that you and all the other learned physicians 
have done all that your art can do for my relief — but all means 
are ineffectual, and I submit." He took leave of the Duke of 
Ormond, and called for the Earl of Portland, but before he came, 
his voice quite failed ; so he took him by the hand and carried 
it to his heart with great tenderness. He was often looking 
up to heaven, in many short ejaculations. Between seven and 
eight o'clock, the rattles in his throat commenced, the com- 
mendatory prayer was offered up, and, as it ended, he departed, 
on March 8, 1702, in the 53rd year of his life, and the begin- 
ning of the fourteenth of his reign. 

When his body was opened, it appeared that he had no 
dropsy ; his head and his heart were sound ; there was scarcely 
any blood in his body. His lungs stuck to his side, and, by the 
fall from his horse, a part of them was torn from it, which oc- 
casioned an inflammation, that was considered the immediate 
cause of his death. His loss was a great blow just at that time. 
The Earl of Portland afterwards said that, when he was once 
encouraging William, from the good state his affairs were in, 
to take more heart, the kins: answered him that the earl must 
well know death was that which he (the king) had looked to 
without any terror, and that often he would have been glad to 
have been delivered out of his troubles. He died with a clear 
and full presence of mind, and in wonderful tranquillity. Bur- 
net seems to lament that he should not have talked more in his 
last moments, knowing what a handle it would give to censure. 
Voltaire says, the King of England " died without giving the 
least answer to what the English priests, who were at his bed- 
side, said to him on the subject of religion ; and he showed no 
other uneasiness but that which arose from the affairs of Eu- 
rope." We have seen that this account is not correct, and, if he 
had been taciturn before such high-church priests, as he be- 
lieved, put their religion in mere externals, therein he showed 
his wisdom. In answer to Burnet's regret, it should be borne 
in mind that William had always been a man of few words, and 
was not inclined to act a part on his death-bed for the sake of 
averting censures that he despised. 

So lived and so died the high-churchmen's " scoundrel Wil- 
liam." His character has been drawn on the one hand with 
the exaggerations of panegyric, say some ; and others have 
opposed this praise with unmerited obloquy. As my professed 
object in this work is to give a recital of European events, con- 
nected with the reign of Louis XIV., and incidentally to exhibit 



voltaire's testimony. 337 

biographical sketches of eminent characters, although my reader 
can be no stranger to the spectacles through which I look, I 
shall endeavour to draw a portrait of William from unexcep- 
tionable authorities, and that in his own unvarnished, straight- 
forward manner. He was in person of a thin and weak body, 
brown haired, and of a clear and delicate complexion : he had 
a Roman eagle nose, bright and sparkling eyes, a large front, 
and a countenance expressive of gravity and authority. He 
was always asthmatical, and had a constant deep cough. His 
behaviour corresponded with his appearance — being serious, 
and seldom cheerful, and never but with a select few. His 
abrupt way gave much offence ; even his great admirer, Burnet, 
says that his address was characterised by a disgusting dryness, 
which indeed always pertained to him, except on the day of 
battle, for then he was all fire, though without passion — he was 
every where, and looked to every thing. 

Feeling the want of a good early education, he had a kind 
of suspicious shyness that he was being narrowly watched when 
he spoke, and so he acquired a habit of exercising cold caution, 
that often proved injurious to his affairs. He spoke Dutch, 
French, English, and German, equally well ; and he understood 
the Latin, Spanish, and Italian, which helped him greatly in 
the command of armies, composed of several nations. His 
memory was amazingly tenacious ; in this respect he formed an 
exception to the rule that good memory generally is the por- 
tion of fools. His imagination was sluggish, but his designs 
were always good : and, of a firm tone of mind, with sound 
judgment, it was considered he too little descended to the weak- 
nesses and humours of others. His reservedness grew T upon 
him, chilling those who served him : he had noticed, and there- 
fore more avoided, the evils of loquacity than those of taciturn- 
ity, which led him into the other extreme — too cold a silence. 
Detesting flattery, he was pleased with complaisance, but showed 
irritation against any censure of his actions. His genius was 
chiefly for war, wherein his courage was more admired than 
his conduct, as he is held to have committed great errors : ne- 
vertheless Voltaire, who, of course, could not be thought fa- 
vourable to William, says "he left the reputation of a great 
politician, and a formidable general, though he had lost many 
battles. His conduct was always discreet and moderate, his 
spirits never having appeared elevated but on a day of battle. " 

On some occasions he was too lavish of money, both in his 
buildings and to his favourites ; and at other times too sparing 
in rewarding services, or encouraging such as brought intelli- 
gence. He was rather too much led by caprice, and hastily 
imbibed evil impressions, with which he was in no hurry to 
part, but never cultivated a spirit of revenge. Well acquainted 



338 CHRISTIAN PROFESSION 

with all foreign affairs, and the state of every European court, 
he rather too much addicted himself to instruct his ministers 
personally, at the cost of attention to affairs at home. After 
long efforts at balancing the two great parties of England, he 
was convinced of the irreconcilable hatred of the tories to his 
government and all free institutions, and at length resolved 
never to try nor to trust them more. Not having aimed at ab- 
solute power in England, he had comparatively a peaceable 
reign, embittered only by the church and the Jacobites. Vol- 
taire ably remarks that " those who are most pleased with the 
character of a prince, who acquired a kingdom without a natural 
right; who maintained it without being beloved; who govern- 
ed, and yet did not enslave, Holland ; who was the soul and 
the chief of half Europe ; who had the genius of a general, and 
the valour of a common soldier; who never persecuted any one 
for religion ; who despised all human superstition ; and whose 
manners were simple and modest ; — such, no doubt, will give 
the name of great to William rather than Louis." 

William was a firm believer in the truth of the christian 
religion, and felt the greatest horror at atheism and blasphemy, 
that was always kept out of his observation at court, how much 
soever of it might exist there, He was regular in attendance 
at public worship, and exemplary in the house of God ; an at- 
tentive hearer, constant in private prayer, and in reading the 
scriptures, often conversing about religious matters, and always 
with reverence. Strong in predestinarian views, without which 
he could not see how the belief in special Providence could be 
maintained, he viewed with indifference the forms of church 
government; and, being zealous for liberty of conscience, we 
have seen that all the clergy could do to malign his govern- 
ment, throw contempt upon his majesty, and disturb his peace, 
he was sure to encounter. This produced a sad effect ; he grew 
jealous of the English, and the perverseness of the church 
threw him more upon the Dutch, whom he had every reason to 
love, as he was beloved by them. Probably, partly from this 
very accountable disgust, and partly from increasing bodily 
ailments, he was thought remiss in most affairs latterly, till 
again roused by the alarms of Europe, by reason of the grasp- 
ing of Louis XIV., to curb whose ambition was the prevailing 
bias of his whole life. Of strong passions, few had the art of 
concealing and curbing them more than he had : if led into any 
unseemly outbreak to inferior servants, he made such speedy 
recompenses that they were glad at the rare occurrence of such 
sudden vents. His strong partiality to the Earls of Portland 
and Albemarle excited much notice, as they were such essen- 
tially different characters, secrecy and fidelity being their only 
points of agreement. 



OF WILLIAM III. 339 

Burnet says he knew William well, having been intimate 
with him for sixteen years, enjoying a large measure of his 
favour all the while. The king did not always well receive his 
freedoms, but, knowing the good bishop's faithfulness, after a 
little coldness, he ever returned to confidence honourable to 
both parties. Greatly obliged as the interesting historian " of 
his own times" was to the king, that was not the reason of his 
favourable opinion of William, but because he considered him a 
person raised up by God to resist the power of France, and the 
progress of tyranny and persecution. He could trace, in the 
30 years, from 1672 to his death, so many amazing steps of a 
glorious and distinguishing Providence that, in the words of 
David, William III. might be called, " the man of God's right 
hand, whom he made strong for himself." 

After all the abatements that may be allowed for William's 
errors and his faults, he ought still to be reckoned amongst the 
greatest princes that our history, or indeed any other, can present. 
A writer on the period says that William, after his accident 
" struggled with his infirmities several weeks, and lived to the 
completion of the great edifice of civil and religious liberty. 
The bill of abjuration, was presented for his signature. His 
hand, however, was not sufficiently strong to enable him to per- 
form the office ; he therefore rendered the instrument legal by a 
stamp, and in a few hours resigned his life to Him that gave it." 
Another anonymous biographer concludes his memoir thus: 
" his native country owes him a lasting debt of gratitude, as the 
second founder of its liberty and independence ; and his adopt- 
ed country is bound to uphold his memory, as its champion 
and deliverer from civil and religious thraldom. In short, the 
attachment of the English nation to constitutional rights and 
liberal government may be measured by its adherence to the 
principles established at the Revolution of 1688, and its just 
estimate of that sovereign and those statesmen who placed the 
liberties of Great Britain on a solid and lasting foundation." 

From Mosheim we learn that " the Mennonites, after having 
been long in an uncertain and precarious situation, obtained a 
fixed and unmolested settlement in the United Provinces, under 
the shade of a legal toleration procured for them by William, 
the glorious founder of Belgic liberty. This illustrious chief, 
who acted from principle, in allowing liberty of conscience and 
worship to christians of different denominations, was moreover 
engaged by gratitude to favour the Mennonites, who had as- 
sisted him in the year 1672 with a considerable sum of money, 
when his coffers were almost exhausted." We find that, the 
year before his death, the Society for the Propagation of the 
Gospel in Foreign Parts received singular marks of protection 
and favour from King William III., who enriched it with new 



340 JUSTICE TOWARDS DISSENTERS. 

donations and privileges. Under his fostering care, the Dutch, 
as soon as they had got a sufficient footing in the East Indies, 
laid with wisdom, and executed at a great expense, various 
schemes for instructing the natives of those distant regions in 
the doctrines of the gospel. In 1662, the high-church party 
had procured the famous and oppressive act of uniformity, in 
consequence of which, the validity of Presbyterian ordination 
was renounced ; the ministrations of the foreign churches were 
disowned ; the terms of conformity rendered more difficult ; 
and the ejected nonconformists deprived of a fifth part of their 
benefices, which in the reigns of Elizabeth and Cromwell had 
been granted. From that period, until the reign of King Wil- 
liam, the nonconformists had found themselves in a precarious 
and changing situation, sometimes involved in calamity and 
trouble, at others, enjoying intervals of tranquillity, and certain 
gleams of hope, according to the varying spirit of the court and 
ministry, but never entirely free from perplexities and fears. 

But in 1689 their affairs took a favourable turn, when a bill 
for the toleration of all protestant dissenters from the church 
of England, except the Socinians, passed in parliament almost 
without opposition, and delivered them from the penal laws to 
which they had been subjected by the act of uniformity, and 
other acts, passed under the house of Stuart. Nor did the pro- 
testant dissenters in England alone enjoy the benefits of this 
act, for it extended also to the Scots church, that was permit- 
ted thereby to follow the ecclesiastical discipline of Geneva, 
and was delivered from the jurisdiction of bishops, and from 
the forms of worship annexed to episcopacy. In William's 
reign, the divisions ran high among episcopalians — then forming 
those two parties which remain to this day, and will ever last, 
while some get into the priest's office for a morsel of bread ; 
and others, by far the fewer number, to preach the unsearchable 
riches of Christ. Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
seven other bishops : Lloyd, of Norwich ; Turner, of Ely ; Ken, 
of Bath and Wells; Frampton, of Gloucester ; Thomas, of Wor- 
cester ; Lake, of Chichester ; and White, of Peterborough ; men 
distinguished for learning and virtue, looked upon it as unlaw- 
ful to take the oaths of allegiance to William, under the notion 
that James II., though banished, was their lawful king. 

In this they were immoveable, and as the head must not 
have refractory members, the crown deprived them of their 
ecclesiastical dignities, and their sees were filled by Tillotson 
(as we have seen), Moore, Patrick, Kidder, Fowler, and Cum- 
berland, names that will be ever pronounced with veneration by 
such as are capable of esteeming solid, well-employed learning, 
and genuine religion, and that will always shine among the 
brightest ornaments of the church of England. This famous 



THE TWO SORTS OF CLERICALS. 341 

schism, that we cannot here follow in detail, gave rise to the 
terms high and low church. The former were so denominated 
on account of the high notions they entertained of the dignity 
and power of the church, and the extent they gave to its pre- 
rogatives and jurisdiction. What claims soever they may have 
to apostolical succession, inasmuch as they have come long 
subsequently to the apostles, I presume we must ail allow this 
kind of succession, especially as to follow does not import to be 
like. One matter is beyond dispute, that successors there are, 
and I fear ever will be, to these non-jurors, who form pompous 
and ambitious conceptions of the authority and jurisdiction of 
the church, and would raise it to an absolute independence of 
all human power. And among those who go under the general 
denomination of the low-church party, many such, Dr. Mac- 
laine says, are to be found, although they disapprove of the 
schism, and distinguish themselves by their charity and mode- 
ration towards dissenters, and are less ardent in extending the 
limits of ecclesiastical authority. 

The subject is fraught with interest, and tempts one to en- 
large; but I must refrain. I have been led to say so much, 
that the difference between William III. and his great rival, 
Louis XIV., may be rendered still clearer. The latter we have 
seen, like a wild beast of the forest, depriving his people of 
their religious rights, and handing them over to the high- 
church; and what their tender mercies were, the revocation 
of the edict of Nantes, and the cruel persecutions in connexion 
therewith, exhibit. On the other hand, England was blessed 
with a king w r ho appreciated civil and religious liberty, who put 
a hook in the nose of Leviathan ; snatched the people from their 
peril ; and, not content with cherishing and protecting all 
during his natural life, left such excellent laws, and w r ell-de- 
fined boundaries, as require only to be known to lead the 
devout into praise and blessing — that overruling Providence 
who thus "raised up a deliverer for his people ; and, while his 
works do follow him, all generations shall call him blessed!" 
The reader could not do better than consult the pages of Mos- 
heim, Wilkins, Neal, Madame, Hody, Burnet, &c, on this im- 
portant period. 

Pursuant to the act that had settled the succession, the crown 
of England devolved on Anne, the youngest daughter of James 
by his first marriage. This case affords one remarkable parallel 
to that of Mary and Elizabeth, inasmuch as then and now two 
sisters succeeded each other as queens regnant. She was in 
the 38th year of her age. The privy council waited in a body on 
the queen : she received them with a well considered speech, de- 
livered with a soft voice, sweet pronounciation, and great weight 
and authority, which indeed were the general characteristics of 



342 QUEEN ANNE. 

her addresses. Expressing great respect to the memory of the 
late king, she told them she meant to tread in his steps, in pre- 
serving church and state, in opposing the growing power of 
France, and in maintaining the succession in the protestant line. 
To the parliament she copiously repeated what she had said to 
the council. The city of London, and all the counties, cities, 
&c, went up in the usual way with addresses, and with the 
usual diversity of style. The Earl of Marlborough had returned 
lately to England, and Anne now sent him back to Holland to 
assure the States of her maintaining the alliances that had been 
concluded by the late king, and of doing every thing that the 
common concerns of Europe required. She gave notice also 
of her coming to the crown to all the princes and states of 
Europe, except France and Spain. When the news of William's 
death reached Holland, the States assembled immediately ; 
they looked on one another as men amazed ; they embraced one 
another, and promised they would stick together and adhere to 
the interests of their country : they sat up most of the night, 
and sent out all the orders that were necessary upon so extra- 
ordinary an occasion. They entered into strict confidence with 
Marlborough, so that he returned to England as well pleased 
with the Dutch as they were with him. 

The coronation of Queen Anne took place on the 23rd of 
April. The queen, immediately after, gave orders for naming 
the Electoress of Brunswick in the collect for the royal family, 
as the next heir to the crown : she then formed her ministry. 
We learn, from the Duchess of Marlborough's letters, that 
though a reconciliation had taken place between the late king 
and her present majesty, it went little farther than decency 
required. She was not made acquainted with public affairs, and 
neither was encouraged to recommend any to posts of trust and 
advantage, nor put into communication with the ministry. The 
husband of the queen, Prince George, who, unlike the same 
relation of her sister, was never acknowledged king, had the 
title of generalissimo of all the queen's forces by sea and land. 
In the first speech of Anne to her parliament, she renewed the 
proposal of the late king for the union of Scotland to England. 
Spite of great opposition, it was carried; because it was so 
evidently the interest of England to shut that avenue against 
the practises of France, and the attempts of the pretended 
Prince of Wales. My reader is referred to De Foe's excellent 
" History of the Union." 

Just now a step was taken by the house of Hanover, which 
had been concerted with the late king before his last illness, and 
was set on foot the week he died. The old Duke of Zell and 
his nephew the Elector of Brunswick went in person, with an 
army rather inferior in strength to that of the Dukes of Wol- 



EFFECTS OF WILLIAM'S DEATH. 343 

fenbuttel : they entered their country while their troops were 
dispersed in their quarters, surprised some regiments of horse, 
and simultaneously invested both Wolfenbuttel and Brunswick, 
so as to cut off all communication between them. The greater 
part of their men were subsisted with French pay, and they 
had engaged to declare for France as soon as required. These 
two dukes, Rudolph and Anthony, could not bear the advance- 
ment of the house of Hanover, which had mainly thrown them 
into the arms of France. They were now, however, forced to 
break their engagements with that power, and join the common 
interests of the empire. The dispositions made by England 
and Holland to overthrow the Bourbon family, Voltaire ob- 
serves, demand the attention of all ages. 

Holland in the maintenance of vast numbers of troops, to 
be employed in the field, or to be kept in garrisons, was per- 
forming more than the vast monarchy of Spain could at this 
juncture. " A province of merchants, which had been almost 
totally subdued within two months, thirty years before, could 
now do more than the sovereigns of Spain, Naples, Flanders, 
Peru, and Mexico. In alliances it almost always happens that 
the parties furnish, at length, less than they promised. England, 
on the contrary, in the second year of the war, sent 50,000, 
instead of 40,000 : and, towards the end of the war, she main- 
tained of her own troops, and those of her allies, upon the fron- 
tiers of France, in Spain, in Italy, in Ireland, in America, and 
in her fleets, 220,000 soldiers and sailors. This expense will 
appear incredible to one who considers that England, properly 
speaking, is but equal to a third of France, and has not half so 
much money in specie : but it will not surpass the belief of 
those who know what commerce and credit can do. The Eng- 
lish bore always the greatest burden in this alliance : the Dutch 
lightened theirs by degrees ; for, in reality, the republic of the 
States-General are only an illustrious company of merchants ; 
but England is a rich and fertile kingdom, abounding in mer- 
chants and warriors." 

Louis XIV., in announcing to the Count of Marsin, then in 
Naples, the death of William III., wisely observes that they 
must not relax any precaution upon the presumption of peace 
which this event might create, That the maxims of William 
yet subsisted, and that the only way to render his projects use- 
less was to persuade England and Holland how much more 
desirable peace would be to them than a ruinous and fruitless 
war. In short, that it is necessary to spare nothing to ensure 
the safety of Spain, as the death of one man was not important 
enough wholly to change the order of affairs. The Marshal de 
Noailles says this advice was the more necessary in Spain, 
where their movements, always slow and imperfect, created 



344 NEW FRENCH MINISTERS. 

great uneasiness. That country, having been greatly weakened 
under the late kings of the blood of Charles V., became more 
so in the beginning of the reign of a son of the Bourbon family. 
It could not be doubted that Portugal would, sooner or later, 
espouse the cause of the Austrian family, as it appeared her 
interest to ferment a civil war, by which Lisbon must be a con- 
siderable gainer. The shifty Duke of Savoy, though allied to 
the Bourbons by family compacts and various treaties, having 
had a monthly pension of 50,000 crowns, subsequently aug- 
mented to 200,000 livres, was still not thought to be bound fast 
enough, as he wanted to have Montferrat, and part of Milan 
given up to him. Treated with hauteur by the French generals, 
and the ministry of Versailles, he shrewdly suspected he should 
soon be disregarded by his sons-in-law. Whereas he had sud- 
denly quitted the empire for France, as he was now neglected 
by that power, it was anticipated that he would take the first 
cpportunity of deserting her. 

Louis had arrived at that period of life, when men are sup- 
posed more to cultivate retirement ; and if Madame de Main- 
tenon had not the vigour nor greatness of soul requisite to 
support the glory of a state, she still had powerful qualities. 
Under her auspices, Chamillard had been made superintendant 
of finances in 1698, and secretary at war in 1701. Being more 
of the fine gentleman than the minister, he mistook himself so 
far as to undertake a weight, which together Colbert and Lou- 
vois had borne with difficulty. Louis too much relied upon 
himself, and at the death of Louvois had said to James II., " I 
have lost a good minister, but this shall not affect either your 
affairs or mine." When he chose Barbesieux to succeed Lou- 
vois as secretary at war, he told him he had made his father a 
minister, and he would make him one too. The Marquis of 
Barbesieux had received the survivorship from Louis long 
before, by a remarkable and mischievous custom unknown to 
us English. Referring to p. 268, my reader will see that Lou- 
vois' death took place in the midst of the king's feeling of 
displeasure towards that fiery and unpopular minister. Louis 
therefore allowed the court to see that the awful occurrence had 
relieved his mind, and, after the delay of a few hours, went to 
his cabinet, sending for M. de Chamlay. 

Louis represented to him that Barbesieux was only 24 years 
old, that he was giddy and unsuitable for business ; in short, he 
was unfit to succeed his father; the king therefore proposed 
Chamlay should accept the office unconditionally. Chamlay 
was a just man, he declined the proffered advancement, not- 
withstanding the king's reiterated and urgent entreaties, upon 
the honourable ground that he had received such great benefits 
from Louvois that he would never displace his son. He added 



PONTCHARTRAIN. 345 

hat, even if Louis should take away the portfolio from Barbe- 
sieux, he would not be the man to accept it. At the same time 
he offered to work under him, to help his youth with all the 
advice and assistance he was capable of. His probity met with 
the reward most acceptable to his high mind: under the coun- 
sel of Madame de Maintenon, Louis gave the office to Barbe- 
sieux, acquainting him with what had passed. Having told his 
courtiers that which had taken place with Chamlay, the delicate 
mind of that fine character was oppressed with the universal 
approbation of his disinterested conduct. It should be recorded 
that the new minister published every where his obligations to 
Chamlay, and gratefully thanked him for his remarkable depar- 
ture from the ordinary rules which guide the conduct of men. 

Barbesieux soon showed that he required such assistance ; 
for his negligence threw much more work upon the king, who 
thus writes to the brother of Louvois, that witty Archbishop of 
Rheims, who told James II. he had thrown away three crowns 
for a mass. " I know what I owe to the memory of M. de Lou- 
vois ; but, if your nephew does not change his conduct, I shall 
be obliged to take a decided part. I shall be very sorry for it, 
but I must do it. He has talents, but he does not make a good 
use of them. He gives suppers often to princes, instead of 
working. He neglects his business for his pleasures. He keeps 
the officers too long waiting in his anti-chamber. He speaks to 
them with haughtiness, and sometimes even with harshness." 
We have witnessed the independence of Pontchartrain ; he 
had also shown a sense of justice in his conduct as one of 
Fouquet's judges, inflexibly maintaining his determination in 
favour of the mildest sentence on the superintendant. He was 
then extremely poor ; but, though all he asked was the survi- 
vorship of his office for his son, he was so marked for his inde- 
pendence that it was refused, and the young man continued 
merely a counsellor in the court of requests. 

In the course of a short time, Colbert, who had been his 
inveterate enemy, met Pontchartrain at an evening party; and, 
struck with his brilliant wit, appointed him chief president of 
the parliament of Brittany. In this office he greatly distin- 
guished himself as regards finance ; and, attention being called 
to his abilities, in 1687, he received the office of intendant, 
under Le Pelietier. Two years passed, and his chief resigned, 
pointing out Pontchartrain to the king for his successor. Ano- 
ther year went by, and the death of Seignelai opened the de- 
partments of the marine and the king's household, so that he 
was again promoted. The Duke of St. Simon says, " he was a 
thin little man, well formed for his size, with a countenance 
from which sparks of fire and wit broke forth without cessation, 
and which fulfilled even more than it promised. Never was 



346 CHAMILLARD. 

there so much promptitude in comprehending, so much light- 
ness and pleasantry in conversation, so much justice and rapi- 
dity in reply, so much facility and solidity in labour, so much 
expedition, so much sudden knowledge of men, or more art in 
winning them. With these qualities, an enlightened simplicity 
and a prudent gaiety floated above all, and rendered him charm- 
ing, both in trifles and in affairs of importance." Notwith- 
standing these resources, he had abundant demands upon his 
versatility ; . for, maugre his repugnance to the capitation tax, 
he was forced by the king to adopt it. Another odious impost 
called the tenth, he had influence enough to reject ; and he had 
the frequent and painful annoyance of opposing many unjust 
demands, even favoured by Louis. 

Disliking the finance department, he had often expressed his 
wish to retire ; at length Boucherat, the chancellor, died, and 
Louis most honourably promoted Pontchartrain to the highest 
place inclination or ambition could prompt him to aspire to. 
His removal left those places vacant that we have just seen the 
influence of Madame de Maintenon secured for Chamillard, and 
to which he had been more recommended owing to his agreeable 
manners and even temper than on account of his fiscal abilities. 
De Torci was a son of Colbert de Croissy, who died in 1696: 
the memoirs of De Torci I have had recourse to on Spanish 
affairs, and shall still frequently refer to those important papers. 
He was very young when appointed to office ; to it indeed he 
was promoted on the condition of placing himself under the 
able and judicious Pomponne, to whom Louis had become re- 
conciled, probably in part from painful reminiscences of the sad 
effects resulting from the neglect of his sound advice, mentioned 
at p. 129. The plan was found to work well. 

Chamillard's functions were ill performed. The operations 
of a campaign were settled in Madame de Maintenon's apart- 
ment, and the loss and inconvenience became manifest in cases 
wherein commanders sometimes had to wait for permission to 
perform a particular enterprise from this secret conclave — often 
the opportunity was lost, or the general defeated. Under this 
feeble ministry, military rewards, or other honours, were incon- 
siderately lavished : young men, and even children, were allowed 
to purchase regiments ; whilst, says Voltaire, among the enemy, 
a regiment was the reward of twenty years' service. In 1693, 
the king had first created the order of the Knights of St. Louis, 
which was intended to raise a spirit of emulation among his 
officers. But the crosses of this order were sold as soon as 
Chamillard's ministry began ; they were to be bought at the 
war-office for 50 crowns. Military discipline had become neg- 
lected. The magazines were now neither sufficiently supplied, 
nor kept in readiness; nor were the arms properly tempered: 



PRINCE EUGENE. 347 

these matters gave great concern to reflecting people, who knew 
the kind of generals and armies France would now have to en- 
counter. 

Prince Eugene, of Savoy, whose undying name remains to 
his day as familiar as that of Napoleon, was grandson of Charles 
Emanuel, Duke of Savoy. His father, the count of Soissons, 
who settled in France, was a lieutenant-general, and governor 
of Champagne. My reader will recollect that he married Olym- 
pia Mancini, one of Mazarin's nieces, who became^ celebrated 
in the annals of infamy, as the murderess of the unfortunate 
Henrietta, sister of Charles I. of England, and afterwards per- 
petrated a similar act to the destruction of Henrietta's daughter, 
the young Queen of Spain. Eugene sprang from this unhappy 
marriage, he was born at Paris, October, 1663 ; and, as Voltaire 
remarks, though so little known to Louis in his youth, he be- 
came fatally so afterwards. Owing to his connexion with the 
Princes de Conti, he had been refused the command of a single 
troop of horse : he then entered the church, and was called the 
Abbe of Savoy: he petitioned for an abbey, which was also 
denied him. Finding he could get forward neither in the church 
nor the army, in France, in 1684, he offered his services to the 
emperor, in company with the Princes of Conti, who had already 
rendered Leopold distinguished service against the Turks in 
Hungary. 

Louis XIV. sent orders after them to return ; but the Abbe 
Eugene alone dared to disobey, declaring that he renounced 
France for ever. Little dreaming of the disasters and humilia- 
tions the fugitive was destined to produce to the " Grand Mo- 
narque," on hearing of this bold reply, that king, smiling con- 
temptuously, said to his courtiers, " Don't you think I suffer 
a great loss?" They all declared Eugene to be disordered in 
his mind: and, remembering the sallies of his youth, prognos- 
ticated that he would never set the Thames on fire. And yet 
this contemned youth had inherent qualities for a great warrior 
and able statesman ; his understanding clear and elevated, he 
had at once resolution for the cabinet or the field. All generals 
have committed errors — those of Eugene were effaced by the 
number of his great actions. This prince, whom Louis laughed 
at as a " great loss," humbled the grandeur of that gorgeous 
monarch, and governed Germany ; manifesting throughout the 
whole course of his victories and administration, equal contempt 
of pride and riches. He even cultivated letters, and encouraged 
them as much as he could at the court of Vienna. In the 38th 
year of his age, after having derived great experience from his 
victories over the Turks, and the mistakes of the Imperialists 
during the late wars, he now appears at the head of the Ger- 
manic forces, with unlimited powers, commanding 30,000 men. 



348 THE DUC DE VILLEROI. 

Prince Eugene's first movement was to make a descent upon 
Italy by the bishoprick of Trent. He formally asked permis- 
sion of the Venetians ; but, not waiting for an answer, he at- 
tacked St. Fremont, the French general, whom he completely 
defeated at Carpi, on July 9, 1701. Then adroitly turning his 
arms upon Catinat, that able general was driven back before 
Eugene ; who thus became master of the open country between 
the Adige and the Adda, forcing Catinat to shelter his army 
behind the Oglio. The skilful prince, to a profound depth of 
design, adaed a surprising quickness of execution ; and Catinat 
had to conduct a retreat, insufficiently supplied with ammunition 
by the government, and entertaining suspicions of treachery on 
the part of the Duke of Savoy. He manifested such strong 
suspicions to the duke himself on the subject, and complained 
so loudly of the inefficient supplies with which his army was 
furnished, that a cabal was raised against Catinat at home, 
though most of the best officers approved of his retreat as ex- 
tremely prudent. However, the courtiers insisted upon it that 
Catinat had tarnished the " glory " of the French name ; he 
was superseded, and Marshal Villeroi undertook to wipe out the 
spot, and retrieve the honour of the nation. His confident 
tone, and the fancy of the king, procured the command in Italy 
for him ; and the tried, the indefatigable, the brave, the able, 
and the disinterested, Catinat, met with the fate of most great 
men who have served their country. Notwithstanding his fa- 
mous victories at Stafard and Marsal, he was placed under the 
command of Villeroi. 

The marshal Duke of Villeroi was son to the king's pre- 
ceptor ; and, having been a companion to him in his pleasures 
and campaigns, was always a great favourite with Louis. Vol- 
taire describes him as engaging, courageous, honourable, friendly, 
sociable, and magnificent in every thing. His enemies said that 
he was more attracted with the glitter of command than quali- 
fied to lead armies ; and he was reproached with a pernicious 
degree of obstinacy, that led him to neglect the good advice of 
others. The defection of the Duke of Savoy might have taken 
place otherwise ; but it is certain that the insolence of this favou- 
rite of Louis XIV. precipitated that calamity to France. The 
marshal affected equality at least with the reigning duke; called 
him familiarly " Savoy ;" and treated him more as a general in 
the pay of Louis than as the master of the barriers which 
nature had fixed between France and Italy. While " Savoy" 
had the empty title of generalissimo, Villeroi had the sole 
authority, in the exercise of which he gave orders to attack 
Prince Eugene, posted at Chiari, near the Oglio. The general 
officers were of opinion that such a step would be contrary to all 
the rules of war, as the post was of no consequence, and the 



CREMONA CAPTURED. 349 

intrenchments were inaccessible, so that, while they could gain 
nothing by currying it; if they failed, they would lose the repu- 
tation of the campaign. 

Villeroi was peremptory, even to the Duke of Savoy ; and 
he sent an aide-de-camp to Catinat, to order that marshal on the 
attack. Catinat made him repeat the order thrice; and then 
turning to the officers under his command, " Come, then, gen- 
tlemen," said he, "we must obey." They accordingly marched 
up to the entrenchments. The Duke of Savoy, says Voltaire, 
behaved, at the head of his troops, not like a man dissatisfied 
with France, exhibiting the most undaunted courage and perti- 
nacity at the very time he was in secret alliance with the power 
he was attacking. Catinat fought as if he was fighting for death: 
he was wounded, when the French were repulsed ; not waiting 
for Villeroi's orders, he made good his retreat. He left the army 
in disgust, and waited upon the king at Versailles to give an 
account of his conduct, without lodging a complaint against 
any body. 

Prince Eugene always maintained his superiority over Ville- 
roi. In the middle of the winter of 1702, one night when 
the marshal was asleep in the utmost apparent security, in Cre- 
mona, a town of great strength, defended by a numerous gar- 
rison, he was suddenly awakened by the noise of several vollies 
of musket-shot; in a great hurry he got up, and mounted his 
horse. He was met by a squadron of the enemy, instantly 
taken prisoner, and conducted out of the town, not knowing 
what was passing there, nor being able to imagine the cause of 
this surprising event. Prince Eugene was already in Cremona. 
A priest named Bozzoli, provost of St. Maria Nova, had let in 
the Germans by a common sewer ; 400 soldiers, having by this 
means being conveyed into the priest's house, had killed the 
guards at the two gates, which, being opened, Prince Eugene 
entered with 4,000 men. This had all been done before the 
Spanish governor could have the least suspicion ; and, as we 
have seen, before Villeroi was awake. The governor, on his 
appearance in the street, was killed by a musket shot ; and all 
the general officers shared the same fate, or were taken prisoners, 
except the Count de Reuel, the lieutenant-general, and the 
Marquis de Pralin. 

But the prudence of Eugene was destined to disappointment. 
The Chevalier d'Entragues was the same day to have had a 
review of his regiment of marines ; they had accordingly as- 
sembled by four o'clock in the morning at one end of the town, 
precisely at the time Prince Eugene entered at the other. 
D'Entragues hurried into the streets with his men, and furiously 
attacked the Germans: this gave time to the rest of the garrison 
to come together, the officers and soldiers thronged the streets 



350 THE DUC DE VENDOME. 

and public places in the utmost confusion — some half-armed, 
and others half naked, without a commander, and without 
order. They fought in the greatest distraction, running from 
street to street, and from square to square. Two Irish regi- 
ments at last checked the fury of the imperialists. Never was 
any town surprised with greater art and stratagem, nor any 
defended with greater valour. The garrison consisted of 5,000 
men: Prince Eugene had yet brought into the town but 4,000, 
and another detachment of his army was to have come by a 
bridge over the Po. This bridge was to have been first seized 
by the German cuirassiers, who were accordingly, at the proper 
time, directed to that enterprise. For this purpose, as they 
had come in at the south gate nearest the common sewer, they 
must now pass through the Po gate, towards the field of Cre- 
mona, on the south side, and thence to the bridge. They ac- 
cordingly hasted thither ; but the guide, who conducted them, 
happening to be killed by a musket-shot from a window, the 
cuirassiers mistook one street for another, and thus lost their 
time and way. 

It was during this interval that the Irish, having rushed to 
the Po gate, furiously attacked and repulsed the cuirassiers. 
De Pralin seized the opportunity, and ordered the bridge to be 
cut down : thus the re-inforcement, which the enemy expected, 
could not advance, and the town was saved. Prince Eugene, 
after having fought the whole day, and always kept possession 
of the gate he had entered, at last retreated ; carrying with him 
Marshal Villeroi and several general officers prisoners. But he 
failed in keeping Cremona, which his own activity and the neg- 
ligence of the governor had put into his hands. Villeroi was 
loudly exclaimed against at Paris ; Louis however said, " They 
are thus outrageous against him because he is my favourite." 
The Duke of Vendome was now named for the command in 
Italy: this grandson of Henry IV. was like his ancestor in 
boldness and intrepidity, affability and benevolence. Haughty 
only to princes, he was easy to every body else. His soldiers 
fought with enthusiasm, and would have sacrificed their lives to 
retrieve a false step, which Voltaire, in continuation, remarks 
he was apt to be led into sometimes by the precipitancy of his 
temper. But he was no match for Prince Eugene, neither 
forming such deep designs, nor so well understanding the art of 
providing subsistence for armies. He neglected all economy, 
and allowed military discipline to relax : his table and his bed 
occupied too much of his time ; and this was also the case with 
his brother. His effeminacy often brought him into danger of 
being surprised ; but on the day of action he retrieved all by a 
wonderful presence of mind. 

His disorder and negligence were not confined to the 



PORTUGAL. 351 

army : in his house, and even in his person, from dislike to os- 
tentation, he ran into the other extreme of unparalleled sloven- 
liness. His brother, the grand prior, who served under him, 
had the same faults to excess. It was astonishing to see both 
these generals a-bed at four o'clock in the afternoon, and to 
witness two grandsons of Henry IV. so neglect their persons 
as even the meanest would be ashamed of. But what is most 
surprising is that, in a war against Eugene, so full of stratagems 
surprises, marches, passages of rivers, dangerous though unser- 
viceable skirmishes, and bloody engagements, in which both 
sides gained the victory; as at Luzara, Aug. 15, 1702, for which 
Te Deum was sung both at Vienna and Paris ; Vendome gene- 
rally came off victorious, when he had not to do with Eugene 
in person ; but when Eugene himself commanded, then France 
had little reason to boast. Amidst all these battles and sieges, 
the French court received certain intelligence that the Duke of 
Savoy was going over to the interest of the allies, notwithstand- 
ing his being grandson of Louis XIII., and father-in-law to the 
Duke of Burgundy and to Philip V. The secret of his change 
was that the emperor promised him all that the French refused 
him, Montferrat, Mantua, Alexandria, Valencia, the country 
between the Po and the Tenaro, and much more specie than 
France had allowed him. This was to be furnished by England, 
for the emperor could only pay his own army with great diffi- 
culty. The conduct of the duke is a question of morals, which, 
says Voltaire, have but little effect on princes. In the end he 
was a great gainer, but he managed matters so badly that 5,000 
of his troops were left at the mercy of the French while he was 
treating with the emperor ; Vendome caused them to be dis- 
armed, Aug. 19, 1703. 

Turning from the disasters of the French in Italy, we find 
that the King of Portugal had likewise declared against France, 
and acknowledged Charles III. King of Spain. The latter 
gave away, by a treaty, what he had neither right nor power to 
meddle with, to Pedro II., Vigo, Bayonne, Alcantara, Badajoz, 
part of Estramadura, and all that country on the west of the 
silver river in America. In a word, Charles gave away what he 
had not, to acquire what he could not. Not content with open 
hostility, the King of Portugal joined Prince Darmstadt, minis- 
ter to the Archduke Charles, and his partisan the admirante of 
Castile, in urging the Emperor of Morocco to assist against 
France, not only with horses and corn, but also barbarian troops. 
Muley Ismael was a shrewd man, and the most warlike Maho- 
metan potentate existing. He was agreeable to their wishes, 
but required the Portuguese monarch's son, and certain towns 
as hostages; and, as this would have been dangerous to Chris- 
tendom, Voltaire remarks, the Christians tore one another to 



352 GENERALISSIMO OF THE ALLIES. 

pieces with their own hands, without the help of those barba- 
rians. At page 342, I showed my reader how, through the 
skilful counsel of William III., the Hanover family took advan- 
tage of the inertness of the Dukes of Wolfenbuttel, and forced 
them into the alliance against France. This completed the 
union of the north of Germany ; for the war between Sweden 
and Poland precluded the assistance of the latter state to France ; 
and thus all the north was agreed to crush the ambition of Louis. 
We have just seen how French influence and success had waned 
in the south of Europe. Having given my reader a bird's-eye 
view of European politics, I must retrograde to the death of 
William, and the course followed in the new reign of Anne. 

Marlborough and Godolphin were moderate Tories! the rest 
of the new ministry were ultras, with whom the queen sympa- 
thized. But the power of Marlborough was supreme, and his 
strong good sense perceived the wisdom and justice of William's 
views relative to the danger of French ambition, and concluded 
them in determination to carry out his intentions and alliances. 
So that after the return of our great general from Holland, 
whither he had been to arrange with the Dutch republic arid 
the imperial minister, on May 4, 1702, hostilities were declared 
by Great Britain against France and Spain. On May 15, Marl- 
borough departed to take the command of our armies : there 
were many competitors for the chief command. Marlborough 
himself made strenuous exertions to procure that appointment 
for Prince George of Denmark ; others were for Archduke 
Charles ; the King of Prussia, the Duke of Zell, the Elector of 
Hanover (George I.), the Prince of Nassau, the Earl of Athlone 
(our friend of many names, see p. 253). But Heinsius the pa- 
triotic pensionary of Holland, and the sensible part of the 
Dutch, well knew that Ginkle was the only one worth a thought, 
after Marlborough ; and he wisely threw his influence into the 
scale for the appointment of Marlborough himself, who finally 
accepted the office of generalissimo, with a salary of «£ 10,000 a 
year. 

The disappointment of the various candidates worked up 
enmity and annoyance to Marlborough. The principal army of 
the allies was under Ginkle, in the neighbourhood of Cleves, as 
well to help the Prince of Nassau Saarbruck, as to cover that 
part of the frontier between the Rhine and the Meuse. Now, 
though Ginkle had voted for Marlborough, as with us one rival 
Speaker always belies himself by voting for another; he be- 
haved very ill afterwards, in constant acts of opposition, while 
he affected great deference. In short, De Reede de Ginkle, 
naturally cold and circumspect, had become gnarled by aa:e, 
and unaccommodating by jealousy. Cohorn commanded 10,000 
men near the mouth of the Scheldt, threatening Bruges. He 



THE DUC DE BOUFFLERS. 353 

was opposed by the Marquis of Bedmar, who acted as com- 
mander, in the name of Philip ; and the Count de la Motte 
covered the side against Cohorn. The greater army of France was 
nominally placed under the Duke of Burgundy, Marshal Boufflers 
really managing : this was on the Meuse, where they occupied 
advantageous fortresses in the bishopric of Liege. Marshal 
Tallard had been detached from the Upper Rhine, to interrupt 
the siege of Kayerswerth. My reader now has a statement of 
the position chosen by the various armies, their commanders, 
and relative importance. The pages of history connected with 
such stirring events should be read with an open map by our 
side ; it much increases the interest, and facilitates the under- 
standing of the recital. 

Marlborough repaired to Nimeguen, where he gave orders 
to draw the army together, amounting to 60,000 men, sixty- two 
pieces of cannon, eight mortars, and twenty-four pontoons. 
He was embarrassed by the delay of fourteen days, taken up in 
squabbles between Prussia and Hanover, about points of punc- 
tilio. At length he started to cross the Meuse, and march to the 
siege of Rheinberg. As soon as he saw the enemy's camp, he 
exclaimed to the Dutch deputies, " I hope soon to deliver you 
from these troublesome neighbours." No sooner did the enemy 
hear that Marlborough had crossed the Meuse, than they de- 
camped by forced marches. Twice was he prevented by the 
over-cautious nature of the Dutch from attacking the French, 
on both of which occasions Marshal Berwick confessed an 
attack must have destroyed the French army. The Duke of 
Burgundy, having been compelled to this inglorious retreat, 
took disgust at military matters, and left the army. Louis was 
dissatisfied with Marshal Boufflers, and very shortly afterwards 
he was removed from the command of armies, which he never 
resumed. 

Louis Francis, Due de Boufflers, was born in 1644, and was 
a soldier from boyhood: before he was twenty-five, he was a 
colonel of dragoons, under Turenne and Crequi. His exploits 
as commander-in-chief were worthy of a great general, and 
drew forth appropriate compliments from his opponents. When 
William III. took Namur, he detained Boufflers in retaliation 
for the French having detained the garrison of Dixmude — 
"Then," said Boufflers, " my garrison, not myself, should be 
detained." " Sir," it was answered, "you are of more value 
than 10,000 soldiers." For his defence of Lille he had been 
raised to the peerage ; and on entering the parliament, Moreri 
informs us, he turned round to a body of his officers who ac- 
companied him, and said, " It is to you I am indebted for all 
these favours ; I have nothing to glory in but the honour of 
having commanded so manv heroes." He died in 1711. To 

x 3 



354 SUCCESSES OF MARLBOROUGH. 

enter into the particulars of the life and surprising success of 
the great Marlborough, both the nature and limits of this work 
forbid ; I can only record his numerous conquests, showing the 
justice of Voltaire's remark, that " he proved the most fatal 
man to the grandeur of France, that had appeared for many 
ages." In most respects, this celebrated writer seems able to 
appreciate the character of the renowned English commander, 
awarding as much praise to his conduct in negociation as to the 
more stirring necessities of action. 

Not led away by the tinsel of great names, speaking of 
Eugene, in connection with the indefatigable Marlborough, he 
observes that, " these two great men, who sometimes jointly 
commanded and sometimes separately, lived always in a good 
understanding. They had frequent conferences at the Hague 
with the grand pensionary Heinsius, the minister who governed 
Holland in conjunction with secretary Fagel, with as much 
sagacity as the Barnevelts and De Witts, and with better fortune. 
These three statesmen so concerted measures that they put the 
springs of half Europe in motion against the house of Bourbon, 
The French ministry was then too weak to resist long such 
united force. They always kept the plan of the operations of 
the campaign a profound secret. They themselves concerted 
their designs, and never communicated them, even to those 
whose assistance was necessary, till on the point of execution. 
On the contrary, Chamillard, being no politician, no warrior, 
nor even well versed in the public revenue, was greatly unequal 
to the part of a prime minister." 

In quick succession, Marlborough took Venloo, Stevens- 
waert, Ruremond, and Liege ; in the latter city a large booty 
was found in the citadel. Besides 36 pieces of cannon, and a 
great quantity of arms and ammunition, the troops discovered 
300,000 florins in notes upon responsible merchants. One gre- 
nadier found 1,000 louis-d'or in a bag. The States were highly 
satisfied with all Marlborough did, and the man of many names 
did him the justice to own that, having differed with the com- 
mander-in-chief in opinion, he must attribute all the success to 
the skill he had shown. In November, when the campaign 
may be said to have terminated, the allies had nearly been de- 
prived of the advantages gained. Marlborough took the whim 
into his head of returning to the Hague in a boat on the 
Meuse. 

One company went in the boat with him, and two companies 
went in another boat before them : there were also some troops 
ordered to ride along the banks, to guard them. They stopped 
at Ruremond to dine with the governor, and then continued 
their course. The greater boat went too quick, and the horse 
mistook the way in the night. Gueldres was the only town 
remaining in the hands of the French thereabouts : a party 



DEMANDS OF BAVARIA. 355 

thence was lying on the banks of the river waiting for an ad- 
venture, so they seized the boat, the whole company being fast 
asleep. 

The enemy had now the great Marlborough, Opdam, one of 
the Dutch generals, and Gueldermaslen, one of the States' de- 
puties, in their hands : the English commander happened to be 
unknown to them, but they recognized the other two. These 
latter had passes, which were civilly attended to by the generals 
on both sides. One of Marlborough's attendants, Gell, had in 
his pocket an old pass for General Churchill, the commander- 
in-chiefs brother. With great presence of mind, he slipped it 
into Marlborough's hand unperceived, as the earl had thought 
it beneath him to solicit a pass, and was consequently entrap- 
ped. The pass had long expired, and in reality was as valueless 
as the notes of a country banker after his failure. But Marl- 
borough very coolly presented it, which, with the darkness of 
the night, caused their captors to exercise a very lax scrutiny. 
The " braves " contented themselves with a search of the trunks 
and baggage ; emptying which of valuables, they permitted the 
great general and his companions to proceed. Tidings of their 
being taken arrived before them at the Hague, upon which the 
States, in great consternation, called a meeting. They sent off 
prompt orders for all their forces to march immediately to 
Gueldres, threatening the garrison with extremities, unless they 
would deliver their prisoners, and never to leave the place until 
they had either taken it, or had the generals delivered up to 
them. 

Before these orders could be despatched, the earl safely 
arrived at the Hague, to the inexpressible joy of the States and 
the inhabitants in general. The gravity of the Dutch was 
turned into extravagant joy, and the gratulations of the vast 
crowd, who all tried to shake hands with him, or otherwise to 
show their attachment, were so violent that it was long before 
he could reach his hotel. He received formal congratulations 
from public bodies in Holland; and, on returning to England, 
was met with similar pride, Whigs and Tories joining in heartfelt 
plaudits. The queen went to St. Paul's to return thanks, at- 
tended by both houses of parliament, who voted him grants of 
public money, while he was raised to a dukedom ; the force of 
honour could go no farther. Landau was taken, after a long- 
siege : the King of the Romans arrived just in time to have the 
honour ascribed to him, but with such pomp of equipage as to 
have been laughable, but for the ruinous expense it entailed on 
Leopold. Bavaria, seeing how France was becoming crippled, 
made great demands of Louis, who hesitated, until the fall of 
Landau had opened the neighbourhood of France itself to the 
Prince of Baden— when the elector gained his ends, as it was 
necessary for France to have him upon any terms. 



356 PRINCE OF BADEN. 

Notwithstanding the depression of his country, one appear- 
ed who, in the florid language of Voltaire, " seemed designed 
to be a bulwark to the glory of France." This was Louis Hec- 
tor, Due de Villars, then only a lieutenant-general, but who 
ultimately became generalissimo of the armies of France, Spain, 
and Sardinia. He became noted for his determinate adherence 
to his own opinions. Sometimes he had resisted Louis, and, 
what was more dangerous, Louvois ; he was therefore not con- 
sidered modest. He was a straightforward, artless character, 
and the courtiers were all against him. Ere he set out, he at- 
tended at court to pay his respects to the king, and before all 
the court he said, " Sir, I am going to fight your majesty's 
enemies — and I leave you surrounded with mine." After Lan- 
dau had fallen, the Prince of Baden, at the head of that army 
of the imperialists, had continued his progress, and now was 
in the mountains of the Brisgau, adjoining the Black Forest, 
which immense and wild country separated the French troops 
from the Bavarian army that it was their intention to join. 
Catinat had feared this enterprise — for, had he failed, the 
French army would have been irrecoverably lost, and Alsace 
laid open. 

But Villars determined to make the desperate effort: and 
near Friedlingen, engaged the cavalry in the plain, while the 
French infantry, after having clambered up to the summit of 
the mountains, attacked that of the Germans, entrenched in the 
woods. The Prince of Baden lost 3,000 men, with all his artil- 
lery, and was pursued for six miles across the woods and defiles. 
At least, this and numberless other advantages were claimed by 
the French, with their usual sprightliness. But other accounts 
state success to have attended the Prince of Baden, for which 
Te Deum was offered up at Vienna: at any rate, Villars was 
compelled to return to Strasbourg. In April, 1703, he suc- 
ceeded in joining the Elector of Bavaria, who had been gaining 
ground, and was in possession of Ratisbon, where, just before, 
the diet of the empire had been laying schemes for his destruc- 
tion. The Count de Styrum, at the head of 20,000 men, was 
trying to join the formidable army of the Prince of Baden near 
Donawert. Villars said to the Elector of Bavaria, u We must 
prevent this — we must march instantly, and attack Styrum." 
The elector hesitated, and was not a little displeased with Vil- 
lars : — the lively French marshal replied, " Very well, if your 
electoral highness will not seize this opportunity with your Ba- 
varians, I will engage with the French ;" and, accordingly, he 
immediately gave orders for the attack. The engagement took 
place on the plains of Hoch-stet, near Donawet. 

Both armies were seized with a panic. Villars, who at one 
time was left almost alone, with great difficulty rallied his troops, 
led them on to a fresii charge, and gained the victory. The 



THE BATTLE OF DONAWERT. 357 

Elector of Bavaria got possession of Augsburg ; and, the road 
to Vienna being open, it was debated whether or not the court 
should quit Vienna. The consternation of the emperor can 
readily be understood, for he was every where worsted : under 
Tallard and Vauban, old Brisac had been reduced; the Prince of 
Hesse had been defeated near Spires, and Tallard had retaken 
Laudan. Tallard characteristically advertised the king of his 
success thus : " Sire, your army has taken more standards and 
colours than it has lost common soldiers." This first success 
in Germany, it was supposed, would lead Villars farther ; but he 
was embarassed with the obstinate haughtiness of the elector — 
they were always quarreling, — and at last the elector demanded 
another marshal of France. Thus, says Voltaire, notwithstand- 
ing he was so necessary in Germany, where he had gained two 
battles, and, in all probability, would have overpowered the 
emperor, yet he was sent away to the Cevennes, to quell an 
insurrection among the country people. 

The Duke of Marlborough returned to the Netherlands in 
the beginning of the year 1703. He took Bonne, the residence 
of the Elector of Cologne. He then took Huy and Limburg ; 
and made himself master of all the circle of the lower Rhine. 
Villeroi had been set at liberty, and now commanded in Flan- 
ders, but his success was not greater against Marlborough than 
it had been against Eugene. In this state of matters, the dis- 
tresses of the emperor having arrived at the last extremity — the 
Elector of Bavaria, master of the Danube all down to Passau, — 
Vienna threatened on both sides, and not in a condition to make 
a long defence, the house of Austria appeared almost lost. The 
emperor solicited assistance from the Queen of England, and 
she privately empowered Marlborough to act as he thought pro- 
per. He saw the necessity of an efficient stroke, and with diffi- 
culty got leave from the States, under a pretence of moving to 
the Moselle, to go farther. So he marched with all possible 
expedition from the Rhine to the Danube, to the astonishment 
of the King of France, and the Elector of Bavaria. 

Tallard w r as sent off in all haste with the best French troops 
to support the elector, who feared Marlborough would break 
into Bavaria. On July 2, 1704, having arrived at Donawert, 
opposite to the elector's lines, wherein about 20.000 French and 
Bavarians were entrenched, Marlborough forced his way at the 
head of three English batallions, and defeated the enemy ; took 
Donawert, passed the Danube, and laid all Bavaria under con- 
tribution. About 5,000 were killed of the English and Dutch, 
and 6,000 of French and Bavarians. Villeroi had been sent 
after Marlborough, but did not come up with him; nor indeed 
did he know his whereabouts, till he heard of the victory of 
Donawert. The best forces of Bavaria were now destroyed: so 



358 THE BATTLE OF 

that the elector, with Marshal Marsin, drew his remaining forces 
under the cannon of Augsburg ; the duke followed them, and 
got between them and the country, so as to have it wholly in 
his power. Prince Eugene now arrived, and this was the first 
interview between these great commanders. Tallard, at the 
head of 30,000 men, marched another way to join the elector, 
and oppose Marlborough. Owing to the perfidy of the elector, 
who had been amusing himself at the expense of the English — 
entering into and signing treaties, to gain time — the dreadful 
consequences w T ere entailed of giving up his country to military 
execution ; and, awful to relate, for no fault of the poor suf- 
ferers, but for the infamy of their rulers, more than 300 towns, 
villages, and castles, were burnt ! 

Tallard was now approaching, and at Biberbach at last put 
himself in communication with the Bavarian army. In antici- 
pation of this, they had resolved to reduce all the strong places 
in Bavaria. The Prince of Baden besieged Ingoldstadt with the 
imperial forces, while the Duke of Marlborough covered it with 
the auxiliaries, that might be joined by those under Prince Eu- 
gene in case of need. The prince had made a parallel march with 
Tallard from the Rhine, and with 18,000 men arrived at about 
the same time, Marlborough and Eugene proceeded to survey 
the ground ; observing some of the enemy in the distance, the 
two generals mounted the steeple of Dampfeim church, and 
discovered the quarter- masters of the French marking out a camp 
between Blenheim and Liitzingen. They were charmed with 
the discovery, and resolved immediately to give battle before the 
enemy could strengthen themselves in their new position. The 
French were well posted, having the Danube on one side, and a 
rivulet on the other, whose banks were high, in some places 
forming a morass before them. So advantageous was the posi- 
tion of the French that several experienced officers ventured to 
remonstrate : but Marlborough saw, at once, that to give them 
time to fortify themselves would leave them out of ail danger ; 
and that even a defeat of the allies would be no worse than 
remaining still. Ke said, " I know the perils of this case, but 
rely on the discipline and courage of the troops." 

Marlborough passed part of the night in prayer, and towards 
morning received the sacrament ! He then took a little rest, 
and, having consulted with Prince Eugene, he sent for the 
surgeons, and arranged with them proper posts for the wounded. 
The duke had under his command 33,500 infantry, and 18,500 
cavalry: the French and Bavarians had from 69,000 to 70,000. 
The chaplains performed service at the head of the English 
regiments at six o'clock in the morning, which had opened hazy, 
so much so that the enemy did not suspect our attack ; that 
commenced by Marlborough's passing the rivulet. Tallard, it is 



BLENHEIM. 359 

thought, should have attempted to check this ; but he laboured 
under a disadvantage peculiarly distressing to a commander-— 
he was very near-sighted : and his ardent courage in the day of 
battle produced a nervous excitement, little short of insanity. 
The French cavalry gave way before Marlborough, except ten 
batallions, who were literally mowed down in their ranks ; and 
our cavalry drove whole bodies into the Danube, where they 
perished. Tallard thrice rallied his troops, but in vain : his son 
was mortally wounded. The French marshal mistook a body 
of Hessians for his own troops, owing to his defective vision, 
and was instantly made prisoner. Some fled in one direction, 
some in another, being driven back by Prince Eugene's divi- 
sion : the panic was complete : the accounts say, thousands 
threw themselves into the Danube, and were drowned. 

Thousands sought shelter in Blenheim, where, thoroughly 
frightened, they laid down their arms, surrendering to the Earl 
of Orkney; thus, by that act, placing 1,300 officers, and 12,000 
common soldiers in our hands. The earl had entered the village 
on horseback, accompanied by a French officer named Desnou- 
villes : his brother officers crowded around them, and said " Do 
you bring an English prisoner with you ? " He replied, " No, 
gentlemen, I am the prisoner, and come to tell you that you 
have no other course to take but to surrender yourselves pri- 
soners of war; and here is my Lord Orkney, who offers you 
terms of capitulation." All these veterans, says Voltaire, ex- 
pressed the utmost astonishment ; the regiment of Navarre tore 
their colours, and buried them under the ground. Compelled, 
however, by necessity, they yielded; while Europe was asto- 
nished at the ignominy, the French historians, with national 
vivacity, console themselves that, some years aftemvards, 14,000 
Swedes were placed under similar compulsion to the Russians ! 
Thus the whole of Tallard's army was either killed in the action, 
drowned in the Danube, or became prisoners by capitulation. 
This celebrated action occurred August 13, 1704. 

On Prince Eugene's side, he had at first been repulsed by 
the Elector andMarsin; but he finally routed them, and was 
master of their camp, cannon, and baggage. Marsin succeeded 
in making a tolerable retreat with some thousands, who hastened 
to evacuate Germany. Eugene swept all Bavaria ; Prince Louis 
of Baden took Landau; and Marlborough, having repassed the 
Rhine, made himself master of Treves and Traarback. The 
Elector of Bavaria, a fugitive from his own dominions, retired to 
Brussels : the electress, while she received the civilities due to 
her sex, was compelled to submit to the terms imposed. In- 
goldstadt and all the fortified places in the electorate, with all 
their magazines, were given up to the Allies ; the towns and 
cities, before captured by France, were restored to the empire. 



360 MARLBOROUGH WITHDRAWS 

Marlborough was made a prince of the empire, by way of tes- 
tifying the gratitude of the Germans for his eminent services. 
It is said that, in his flight, the Elector of Bavaria met with his 
brother the Elector of Cologne, who was likewise driven from 
his dominions ; they embraced each other, and shed tears. 
Amazement and consternation seized the court of Versailles at 
the tidings of this signal defeat, which arrived while that " in- 
vincible " people were bedizened with feathers and ribbands to 
rejoice at the birth of a great-grandson of the " Grand Mo- 
narque ;" so that all dreaded to tell the king the " cruel truth." 
Madame de Maintenon at length had the painful task of 
informing Louis of the disastrous termination of the battle of 
Blenheim, where at least 40,000 were either killed or prisoners, 
and all their artillery, ammunition, and standards, tents and 
field equipages, marshal, generals, and officers. The French 
army being entirely dispersed, the allies had now a free com- 
munication betwixt the Danube and the Rhine. Though a 
hundred leagues of ground were lost, yet the frontiers of France 
remained undiminished. It was necessary to make prodigious 
efforts to stop the victorious Duke of Marlborough. The bro- 
ken remains of the army were re-assembled, the garrisons were 
drained, and the militia ordered to take the field. After great 
efforts of Chamillard to borrow money " from all hands," an 
army was at last got together, and Villars was recalled from 
the remotest part of the Cevennes, to take the command. 
Dispirited as were the troops, by the next campaign, France 
had shown her wonderful elasticity and resources, for Villars 
was in such strength on his arrival at Treves, opposite to Marl- 
borough, and showed so much skill and enterprise, that the 
duke could not engage him, anxious as both generals were. 
Prince Louis of Baden would not come up in proper time to 
support the English, and Marlborough, not being able judici- 
ously to engage, was compelled to withdraw. Mortified with 
the Prince of Baden, and esteeming his noble enemy the mar- 
shal, on retiring, the duke wrote characteristically to that fine 
soldier, hoping that Villars would " do him the justice to be- 
lieve that his retreat was owing to the Prince of Baden ; and 
that his esteem for the French marshal was greater than his 
displeasure against the prince." 

Meanwhile, the French generals and armies had, upon the 
whole, been worsted in the Low Countries by a series of faults, 
and the English had forced back their lines as far as Louvain. 
Shortly afterwards the Prince of Baden drove in the lines of 
Marsin at Haguenau, and that town being attacked by the im^ 
perial forces, to save his troops from being made prisoners of 
war, Peri, a gallant French officer, who commanded therein, 
made his escape in the night, and the place surrendered. The 



TO BERLIN. 361 

reflections cast by the allies on the Prince of Baden, whose 
conduct in not sustaining Marlborough was deemed so bad that 
he was precluded from sharing in the public joy, brought on 
him an illness, which terminated in a " languishing," of which 
he never recovered, and he died about two years after. Marl- 
borough now went to Berlin, to concert measures with the 
King of Prussia, for 8,000 troops to be sent to Italy upon the 
Queen of England's pay. He had arranged with the empire to 
send 20,000 men under Eugene, of which England and Holland 
undertook to pay 16,000. The Archduke Charles built all his 
hopes on the assistance of the English ; he went, almost unat- 
tended, to London, to implore the assistance of Queen Anne. 
Voltaire says, *' then it was that the power of England fully 
displayed itself. This nation, so little interested in the quarrel, 
furnished the Austrian Prince with 200 transport ships, 30 men- 
of-war, joined to 10 Dutch vessels, 9,000 troops, and money to 
conquer a kingdom. " And yet, such was the insolent or igno- 
rant hauteur of these precious Germans, that, while saved from 
destruction by the English, the emperor, in supplicating aid, 
could not bring himself to style our queen u Your Majesty" — 
Serene Highness being the utmost that then the stiff court of 
Vienna would allow her grandeur to accord ! 

In short, much of the confusion and distress to which the 
empire had been subject arose from the decrepitude of the 
goverment. With an aged monarch, the business was princi- 
pally conducted by superannuated ministers, who thwarted and 
counteracted the grand, schemes of Prince Eugene ; being ut- 
terly unable to comprehend the military policy conceived by 
Marlborough, and supported by Eugene. Fortunately the old 
emperor now died, and the accession of Joseph caused the 
adoption of a more vigorous policy. He wrote to Marlborough, 
assuring his " Excellence that whatever was lost by the death of 
his father, should be found partly compensated by himself. 
He would gladly have joined him, but sent the Prince of Baden 
to act in concert with him, and wished him as glorious a cam- 
paign as that of last year." Marlborough was thwarted by the 
Dutch deputies who accompanied him, and by whose tardy de- 
cisions he was so embarrassed that he wrote off to the Hague, 
threatening to throw up the command if he was to continue to 
be placed in situations in which his character was to be com- 
promised, not only in the eyes of the enemy, but in those of 
the world at large. In England, public indignation ran very 
high at the fettering of her general, of whom they had, indeed, 
so much reason to be proud. Therefore the Dutch removed 
Slaugenberg, the most culpable of their generals ; and as Prince 
Eugene wrote to soothe his irritation, Marlborough was in 
some sort pacified. 

Y 



362 VILLARS IN GREAT STRENGTH. 

It was the emperor's desire that the duke should resume his 
plan of attacking France on the side of the Moselle; but Marl- 
borough had learned by experience how little he could rely on 
the promises of the imperial court, or the co-operation of the 
German princes, especially the Prince of Baden, He, therefore, 
resolved to decline the offers of the emperor Joseph, and to 
join Eugene in Italy. All doubts about the firmness of the 
Duke of Savoy we have seen brought to a close, and that prince, 
not having shrunk from the double baseness of receiving benefits 
from both sides, is now found writing to Marlborough, compli- 
menting him thus : — " To you is reserved the glory of rescu- 
ing Europe from slavery, and of carrying to the greatest possible 
height the arms of the queen, by rendering them triumphant 
even in Italy, which, as well as Germany, will owe her liberty 
to you. * * * * You cannot fail of reflecting that, should 
this capital be lost, the enemy will have it in their power to 
turn all their force against Prince Eugene, and compel him to 
abandon Italy." To the wishes of the Duke of Savoy, if Marl- 
borough was willing to listen, he was debarred from acceding 
by the determinate opposition of the German princes, the Kings 
of Prussia and Denmark, as well as the Dutch, the Hanoverians, 
and the Hessians. 

At this moment disastrous news arrived from the Upper 
Rhine, for Yillars had suddenly taken the field, forced the Ger- 
man lines, and was preparing to overrun the Palatinate. In 
great alarm, the Dutch, looking on Marlborough as their only 
protector, offered to relieve him from all the shackles which had 
annoyed him ; and, being pleased by this, he consented to re- 
tain his command in the Netherlands. He was in low spirits 
at appearances there : to his friend Lord Godolphin he writes, 
" God knows, I go with a heavy heart, for I have no prospect 
of doing anything considerable, unless the French would do 
what I am very confident they will not ; unless Marsin should 
return, as is reported, with 30 batallions and 40 squadrons ; for 
that would give them such a superiority as might tempt them 
to march out of their lines — which, if they do, I will most cer- 
tainly attack them, not doubting, with the blessing of God, to 
beat them," He was soon gratified. Villeroi commanded 80,000 
men, and he was instructed at all risks to protect Namur. Marl- 
borough made a movement thither, hoping to surprise the town : 
he had but 60,000 under his command, and as the English ap- 
proached, Villeroi and the Elector of Bavaria, with their united 
and large army, passed the Dyle, determined not to wait till 
re-inforcements of Danes, Hessians, and Hanoverians, all within 
a few days' march, could join Marlborough's army. 

This was the very spot on which, three years before, the 
pertinacity of the Dutch had prevented his coming to action 



BATTLE OP RAMILLIES. 363 

with the French. Villeroi was in high spirits, hoping, by beat- 
ing the renowned English general, to wipe out the disgrace of 
his defeats by Prince Eugene. He encamped his army near the 
Mehainge, the centre being posted at the village of Ramillies. 
It is worthy of remark that English writers say the army under 
Villeroi was 60,000, while Voltaire, ever alive to the " glory" of 
France, acknowledges Villeroi had 80,000 before his junction 
with the Elector of Bavaria. The same writer says that the dis- 
positions he made for the engagement were such that every 
experienced officer foresaw the consequences. The newly raised 
troops, undisciplined and incomplete, were put in the centre ; 
he placed the baggage between the lines of his army; and 
posted his left behind a marsh, as if he intended to prevent its 
advancing to the enemy. In short, he was utterly incompetent 
to encounter such a foe : his general officers saw his incapacity, 
and advised him not to accept a battle — but he was mad for 
" glory." 

The errors of Villeroi were at once perceived by Marl- 
borough, who on his part made immediate dispositions to take 
advantage of them. Seeing that the French left could not pos- 
sibly attack his right, he filed off a considerable portion of it, in 
order to advance to Ramillies with a superior number. Lieu- 
tenant- General Gassion, seeing Marlborough's judicious move- 
ment, called out aloud to Villeroi, " You are undone, if you do 
not instantly change your order of battle. Draw off a detach- 
ment from your left, that you may engage the enemy with an 
equal number ; make your lines closer — if you delay one mo- 
ment, all will be irretrievable." Many other officers joined in 
this salutary advice, but the marshal was inflexible. The at- 
tack was begun by the English — the French being posted just 
as Marlborough would have had them. Little need be said of 
this action, for the French did not withstand the charge for half 
an hour ; and in less than an hour the whole French army was 
in flight. 

Never was there so complete a victory. The confederates 
had only 1,066 killed, and 2,567 wounded; while the French 
had more than 20,000 lost in killed and prisoners. On their 
side many officers of distinction fell, among whom were the 
Princes of Rohan and Soubise, and a son of Marshal Tallard, 
with many other distinguished officers ; they lost also 120 
colours, and 50 pieces of cannon. Voltaire says, not only did 
the French sustain all these losses, with the glory of their nation, 
but at the same time all hopes of retrieving it. The result of 
this great battle was more important than of Blenheim ; for the 
Spanish Netherlands were lost at once; thirteen principal towns 
were captured one after the other, and Marlborough marched 
through the country in triumph. During the battle of Ramillies, 

y2 



364 VILLEROl FLIES. 

the duke was often in extreme danger — indeed he was always 
too venturesome for a commander. He was at one time recog- 
nized by the French dragoons, while rallying some broken horse. 
Perceiving his danger, he attempted to leap a ditch, to disen- 
gage himself from them, but he was thrown. Colonel Bingfield, 
one of his equerries, immediately alighted to give him his horse, 
when, as he was holding the stirrup, his head was struck off by 
a cannon ball ! It is impossible not to be pleased with the 
honourable fairness of Voltaire throughout his record of these 
dreadful disasters to his nation ; and another circumstance is as 
gratifying to me, as it is honourable to our writers. 

I have lying open before me many English authorities, whom 
I have read for these details — almost invariably they understate 
matters ; and, neither as regards pretension nor consequences, 
do they lay claim to such amazing results as are assigned by 
Voltaire. He says, " The confederates had gained all Bavaria 
and Cologne by the battle of Hochstet ; and by this of Ramillies, 
they now got into their possession all the Spanish Flanders. 
The victorious Marlborough entered Antwerp and Brussels ; he 
took Ostend, and Menin surrendered to him." It would not 
be in place to give particulars of the delight experienced in 
England at these tidings. I am certainly not old enough to 
remember the excitement of the battle of Ramillies, but I can 
just remember the talk of the old folks about wearing " Ramil- 
lies wigs ! " — much the same kind of honour as " Wellington 
boots!" — those marvellously uncomfortable things, that need no 
longer cut and pinch our ancles, thanks to the gentle clergy, 
who have had taste and sense enough to introduce the cloth 
substitute with buttons, honoured with the orthodox title of 
" Oxford boots." But as, instead of well-set hair, baldness 
has overtaken me, I may be permitted to heave a sigh over 
those graceless and undignified things of wigs called " natural 
scratches," and long for the return to sense and comfort of 
Ramillies wigs — in which case I hope to be among the first to 
sport one ! 

Should my reader pardon this little egotistical parenthesis, 
and be disposed to resume the narrative, he must know that the 
elector (once more a fugitive) and Villeroi, having passed the 
perils of the field, fled to Louvain. Holding a council by torch- 
light, they resolved to abandon the open country and towns, and 
to retreat towards Brussels. We have seen that this was 
making a merit of necessity, for Marlborough soon snapped up 
Alost, Lierre, Ghent, Bruges, and Damme. While Oudenarde 
was so strong that, even with 60,000 men, William III. could 
not take it ; such was the terror inspired by the English that, 
though they had no cannon to besiege it with, they surrendered 
at once. The governor of Brussels, with the states of Brabant, 



TURIN TAKEN. 365 

declared their readiness to recognise Charles ; he was invited 
to Brussels, and there proclaimed as Charles III. The duke 
speedily took Arsele, Caneghem, Antwerp, and Ostend. Menin 
was very strong, having been fortified by Vauban. At the fear- 
ful cost of 3,000 killed and wounded on the part of the allies, 
and 1,500 on the side of the besieged, this strong place was 
taken. They secured here 50 pieces of brass cannon, 40 of 
iron, immense quantities of ammunition, 300,000 lb. of pow- 
der, 24 colours, and one standard. One of the very strongest 
places was Dendermond — so strong was it that the duke said, 
"that place could never have been taken but by the hand of 
God:" the garrison however surrendered Sept. 4, 1706. The 
nature of its inaccessibility may be appreciated by a naive remark 
of Louis himself, on hearing that preparations were making for 
the siege of Dendermond — " They must have an army of ducks 
to take it." 

Marlborough next took Ath. While our successful com- 
mander-in-chief was thus pursuing his astonishing career of 
success, it is scarcely necessary to say that poor Villeroi was in 
the utmost despair, at least so says Voltaire, without whose 
testimony I should hardly have ventured to couple that des- 
ponding quality with the name of a Frenchman. Louis had 
adopted the sage precaution of locking the stable door after the 
horse had been stolen. Villeroi was recalled, and, after his 
inglorious return to Versailles, the king, instead of reproaching 
him, only said in a plaintive way, ° Monsieur le Marechal, the 
times are not favourable to us now." Other accounts state 
that the words Louis used were, " Alas ! Marshal, we are not 
fortunate at our age ! " The Duke de Vendome was ordered 
from Italy to Flanders, where he soon quarrelled with the Elec- 
tor of Bavaria; and, though supplied with large detachments 
from the army of Germany, eaten up by his habitual indolence, 
he could do nothing against Marlborough; and, after a very 
narrow escape from being surprised, he returned to Versailles, 
as much dissatisfied with the king as that monarch was dis- 
pleased with him. 

Prince Eugene was so situated that he could not advance to 
succour Turin, being on the other side of the Adige. De Feuil- 
lade, who commanded the strong French army, was coura- 
geous, having inherited all the shining qualities of his father, 
with a better understanding. He had married Chamillard's 
daughter ; the minister greatly loved him, and had made pro- 
digious preparations to enable him to succeed in the attempt. 
There were 140 pieces of cannon, each of which cost 2,000 
crowns. They had also 110,000 bullets, 406,000 cartouches, 
21,000 bombs, 28,000 hand-grenades, 15,000 bags of earth, 
30,000 instruments for pioneering, and 1,200,000 lb. of powder. 



366 DISTRACTED COUNSELS. 

Besides a very great quantity of lead, iron, tin, ropes, sulphur, 
saltpetre, with every thing requisite for miners, and all the 
implements for a siege. So enormous was the preparation for 
destruction that, Voltaire well remarks, the expense would have 
been sufficient to settle one of the most numerous colonies, 
and to have put it in a flourishing condition. A pithy and 
striking exhibition of the madness of war ! Feuillade did not 
shine here ; he proved haughty, rash, and obstinate. Vauban 
offered his services ; the first engineer of Europe was repulsed 
by an offensive letter from Feuillade. The Duke of Savoy 
misled him by various feints. The Duke of Vendome, before 
his departure for Flanders, had suffered Eugene to cross the 
Adige, the White Canal, and at last the Po — thus leaving it in 
his power to penetrate even to Turin. 

The Duke of Orleans, nephew to Louis XIV., took the com- 
mand of the Duke of Vendome's forces, and witnessed the 
exploits of Eugene, who took Carpi, Corregio, and Reghio; 
and, outwitting the French, he at last joined the Duke of Savoy 
near Asti. All that the Duke of Orleans could do was to join 
the Duke of Feuillade at the camp before Turin : Prince Eu- 
gene followed him with all expedition. They had now one of 
two courses to follow ; either to wait for Prince Eugene in their 
lines of circumvallation, or march out to meet him near Veil- 
lane. The Duke of Orleans called a council of war, which con- 
sisted of the Marshal de Marsin (who had lost the battle of 
Hochstet), the Duke of Feuillade, Albergotti, St. Fremont, 
and the other lieut.-generals. The Duke of Orleans showed 
such reasons as induced all the lieut.-generals to cry out with 
one voice, " Let us march!" Marsin now pulled out of his 
pocket an order, signed by the king, commanding all to submit 
to his opinion in regard to an action — and he was for remain- 
ing in the lines. The duke now saw that he was there merely 
as a prince of the blood, and not as a general. The enemy 
made a feint to form several attacks at once : their motions 
threw the French into great perplexity — the Duke of Orleans 
being for one course, while Feuillade and Marsin were for 
others. During their disputes, they suffered the enemy to pass 
the Doria, which, having done, they advanced in eight columns, 
25 men deep, and the French were now obliged to oppose 
them instantly with batallions of equal depth. 

Messages were sent to Albergotti upon the Capuchin moun- 
tain, where he was posted with 20,000 men, and he was op- 
posed only by militia, who dared not attack him. They wanted 
12,000, but he gave plausible reasons for not sparing any. Time 
thus lost in delay and indecision, Prince Eugene attacked their 
intrenchments, and forced them in two hours. The Duke of 
Orleans, having received a wound, was obliged to retire to have 



CONSTERNATION IN FRANCE. 367 

it dressed ; and was scarcely in the hands of the surgeons when 
he heard that the enemy was master of the camp, and that all 
was lost. Marsin was wounded in the leg, and made prisoner ; 
one of the Duke of Savoy's surgeons cut off the limb, but the 
marshal only survived the operation a few minutes. The En- 
glish envoy present, Mr. Methuen, was, says Voltaire, one of the 
most brave, generous, and sincere men his country ever em- 
ployed in an embassy. He had long fought with Eugene, and 
was present at the last moments of the French marshal. The 
dying general turned to him, and said, " Do me the favour to 
believe that it was contrary to my advice we waited for you in 
our entrenchments." Which observation seems to contradict 
what was stated to have occurred in the council of war. It is 
understood the imbecile Chamillard had sent Marsin this order 
from Versailles, and thus caused the defeat of 60,000 men. 
About 3,000 French were killed, but inconceivable confusion, 
with want of subsistence, forced them to retreat in the most ig- 
nominious manner, and consequences of indescribable misery 
ensued. 

The French generals seem never to have thought of trying 
to maintain a part of the Milanese ; though Albergotti's di- 
vision had scarcely lost a man ; and the Count de Medavygran- 
cey, with his army in Mantua, had defeated the imperialists 
under the Landgrave of Hesse, two days after the defeat at Turin. 
While at Casal, they were sure of protection from its great 
strength, which was moreover near at hand ; but such was their 
panic that they hurried to the nearest French territory. Thus 
were lost the duchies of Milan and Mantua, Piedmont, and at 
length the kingdom of Naples. So that Prince Eugene and the 
Duke of Savoy followed up their advantages by pushing forward 
into France itself; forcing the French entrenchments in their 
road ; and, in conjunction with the British fleet, laid siege to 
Toulon. While the English bombarded the town, the allies at 
first vigorously pressed the siege : but, harassed by disease and 
want of food, their usual activity was wanting. 

France, however, was in general consternation — rapid mes- 
sengers were sent in every direction to recal their armies ; Mar- 
shal Berwick was ordered to leave the Duke of Orleans to com- 
mand in Spain, and to hurry to Toulon ; and Marshal Tesse 
hastened, with all he could get together, before the drafts arrived 
from the distant armies, to aid Toulon. On August 22, 1707, 
the siege was raised, as Eugene wisely refused to risk a tedious 
stay, seeing the difficulties likely to result from deficient sup- 
plies, as the fortifications would sustain a lengthened attack. 
Thus France was saved from the danger of losing as well Mar- 
seilles as Toulon ; Provence was delivered, and Dauphine freed 
from present danger. The French bitterly felt the disgrace of 



368 ATTEMPT UPON SCOTLAND. 

a violation of their territory ; and if a large expense had accrued 
to the allies, no less had fallen to the almost empty exchequer 
of France. Their forces had been divided, and Sir Cloudesley 
Shovel, in the bombardment, had burned eight, and sunk 20, 
ships of war ; thus destroying the remnant of that navy which 
Colbert's energies had been devoted to create. 

The emperor set himself to settle his authority in Italy, so 
as to defy future efforts on the part of France to disturb it. He 
mortified the pope by forcing him to abandon part of his terri- 
tories, to lay down his arms, and to enter into sureties to keep 
the peace. He farther made his holiness acknowledge Charles as 
king of Spain, and the pope endeavoured to persuade the French 
that this was not incompatible with the interests of Philip V. ! 
France was now destroyed — as to her resources. She had gone 
on upon the system of credit and paper money : discounts at 
an enormous rate of interest caused the financiers (called Trai- 
tans) to swell their fortunes, a la Mazarin and Fouquet, while 
the dreadful misery of the people went on in fearful rapidity. 
To the surprise of Europe, at this very time, when France was 
reduced so low, and gratulated herself upon having escaped in- 
vasion, Louis, notwithstanding the destruction of his own navy, 
and the power of the English fleets, made a descent upon Great 
Britain. 

In accordance with a proposal from those of the Scotch who 
were favourable to the Stuart line, although he certainly feared, 
says Voltaire, he should only gain " glory" by the attempt, he 
endeavoured to establish James's son on the throne of Scotland, 
while he could hardly maintain his own grandson on the throne 
of Spain. Being promised that he should find 30,000 men in 
arms, if he would only land near Edinburgh, Louis XIV. who 
had made so many efforts for his father, now afresh exerted him- 
self for the son. Eight men-of-war and 70 transports were fitted 
out at Dunkirk, in which 6,000 troops were embarked; the 
Count de Gace had the command of these forces, and the Cheva- 
lier de Forbin Janson, a most excellent sea officer, was admiral 
of the fleet. The juncture appeared very favourable ; for in 
Scotland there were not above 3,000 of the regular troops, and 
England was still more destitute, as they had all been drafted 
off to be under Marlborough in Flanders : the difficulty was to 
land safely. The expedition was defeated partly by the activity 
of our fleet, and partly by the Scotch not answering the agreed 
signals on the coast. So that, though the Pretender hovered 
about, Forbin had nothing to do but to carry him back to Dun- 
kirk, saving the fleet, and reaping no advantage but " glory." 

As the affairs of France daily declined, Louis resolved to 
send his grandson, the Duke of Burgundy, to head the Flanders' 
army, trusting that the presence of the heir-apparent to the 



BATTLE OF OUDENARD. 369 

throne might revive the languishing spirit of the troops. Vol- 
taire describes him as firm and intrepid, pious, just, and philo- 
sophical, having been educated under the celebrated Fenelon. 
He went against Marlborough, the Duke de Vendome acting as 
his assistant: thus arose evils from divided counsels, while 
Marlborough acted alone. The Duke of Burgundy commanded 
superior numbers ; for here again we have to note the wonderful 
elasticity of France, as well as her astonishing resources, which 
even, when to all appearance she was utterly exhausted, had 
quickly enabled her to collect an army of 100,000 men. He 
got possession of Ghent and Ypres with comparative ease, but 
misconduct rendered such advantages fruitless; for they first 
marched towards Dendre, and then turned back towards the 
Scheldt, for Oudenard, by these means the time was lost. 

At the latter place the French were routed July 11, 1708. 
They had calculated on reducing Oudenard; in a military point 
of view, a place of very great consequence, being, while in itself 
of immense strength, the key to the other fortresses possessed 
by the allies in Flanders, as well as the direct channel of com- 
munication with England. Upon hearing that the French 
threatened Oudenard, Marlborough crossed the Senne and the 
canal of Brussels, and encamped with his left at Auderlacht, and 
his right at Tourbeck. Marlborough is understood to have felt 
that he was in an unfavourable position. Just then Prince Eu- 
gene arrived; finding he could not effect a junction in time, he 
had left his cavalry at Maestricht, and hastened to take a per- 
sonal share in the expected conflict. The prince warmly ap- 
proved of the resolution of his friend to bring the enemy to an 
engagement. Marlborough himself was so ill that he was com- 
pelled to issue his orders through Overkirk ; but the next day 
he so far rallied as to command in the action. The French had 
invested Oudenard on the 9th. Their plan was to occupy Les- 
sines on the Dendre ; but, although he had twice as far to 
march, Marlborough anticipated them. The French now re- 
treated to the Scheldt, while Eugene and Marlborough both 
determined to bring them to immediate battle. Disconcerted, 
the enemy moved from Cudenard towards Grone, seeking shelter 
behind the Scheldt. 

The Dukes of Burgundy and Vend6me had quarrelled vio- 
lently, and, as danger threatened, the breach became wider. 
The majority of young officers sided with Burgundy, clamouring 
for an engagement ; this had been opposed by Venddme, who 
was, of course, compelled to submit. The French, as usual, at 
the beginning of the battle, showed great courage ; but, a re- 
treat being sounded, they fled in very great disorder. They 
were partially saved by night, and Marlborough declared that 
two hours more of daylight would have put an end to the war. 

y 5 



370 SIEGE OF LILLE. 

In the action the electoral Prince of Hanover (afterwards 
George II.) greatly distinguished himself. Overkirk also be- 
haved nobly, but he fell in the battle. The Duke of Berry and 
the Chevalier St. George beheld the scene from an adjacent 
steeple — much the pleasantest way of witnessing such a melee. 
In the morning a most appalling spectacle was made manifest, 
among several thousand corpses were a vast number of the 
wounded of all nations. They were all carried to the hospitals 
at Oudenard, and friend and foe received equal attention. The 
French lost about 6,000 killed and 8,000 prisoners, and 100 
standards and colours. Of the allies about 3,500 were killed 
and missing : no English were engaged. 

The French lines, constructed to cover the country between 
the Scheldt and the Lys, were forced by the victorious allies 
before Marshal Berwick could arrive to defend them. Eugene 
went to Brussels to forward the march of his army, as Venddme 
declared he would defend Ghent to the last extremity ; and Ber- 
wick arrived at Lille to defend that city. It had become of 
great importance to both parties, and Marlborough formed the 
plan of masking that town, and penetrating through the northern 
frontiers into the heart of France. Eugene thought this too 
bold a plan, and indeed impracticable, until Lille could be ob- 
tained for arms, and as a magazine. The Dutch were also 
strongly in favour of reducing Lille before attempting to enter 
France. Vauban had constructed the fortifications, and laid 
down an able plan for their defence. Marshal Boufflers wag 
entrusted with the defence, which indeed seemed to require 
little aid, as it was in a swampy plain, watered by many small 
rivers, and defended by a garrison of 15,000 men. The season 
was far advanced, the army of the Duke of Burgundy, re-col- 
lected and re-appointed, was in great strength, much superior 
to that of the allies. The army assembled to reduce it had 94 
cannon, 60 mortars, 3,000 ammunition wagons, drawn by 16,000 
horses, the convoy occupied a line of 15 miles, and had to tra- 
verse 25 leagues from Brussels. 

The object of the allies was to secure its march ; that of the 
French, by far the easier task, to obstruct it. Such was the 
wonderful skill of the two great commanders that they effected 
this desideratum, never allowing the enemy to make an attempt 
upon them, although they had 100,000 men ; and this was so 
ably managed that not a single carriage was lost* This famous 
siege drew to the spot many celebrated characters — the de- 
throned King of Poland (for Charles XII. had so successfully car- 
ried on his warfare as to put down Augustus and place Stanis- 
laus in his stead), and his natural son, afterwards so renowned 
as Marshal Saxe : he was then only 12 years old. Munich and 
Scheverin were there, and George II. Berwick had joined 



GHENT TAKEN. 371 

Burgundy, and they were now in prodigious strength. Eugene 
made an attack on several counterscarps, with terrible slaughter, 
and himself was so seriously wounded that the next day Marl- 
borough acted for his absent friend. Just then, to their dismay 
the allies discovered their ammunition, powder and ball, would 
only last four days ! The Dutch were alarmed, and insisted on 
the duke's abandoning the siege ; but supplies were marvel- 
lously procured through the excellent management of Generals 
Cadogan and Webb. Prince Eugene recovered, and returned 
to his functions ; after a 60 days' siege, Lille surrendered, to the 
astonishment of all Europe ! 

Eugene treated the garrison with all the generosity their 
brave defence entitled them to. The citadel yet held out, and 
it became the plan of the French, either to relieve it, or to 
make themselves masters of Brussels, To this end the Elector 
of Bavaria was recalled from the Rhine, and appeared before 
the walls of that town. All the French considered it impossible 
the allies could reach it, as the main French army interposed, 
lying in their strong-hold behind the Scheldt, which they had 
been three months in fortifying. However, by a series of the 
most astonishing'movements, said to be unparalleled in history, 
Marlborough and Eugene defeated all the plans of the enemy, 
forcing the passage of the Scheldt ; and, having relieved Brus- 
sels, returned to Lille. The besieged beat a parley, and on 
Dec. 9, 1708, were permitted to march out with all the honours 
of war. Boufflers was warmly praised by Eugene and Marl- 
borough ; indeed, the King of France, and the inhabitants of 
Lille, all vied with each other in honouring this brave com- 
mander. So long and disastrous was the siege that the garri- 
son lost 8,000 men, while, on the part of the allies, a fearful 
list of 14,000 in killed, wounded, and sick, afforded another 
testimony to the shocking consequences of war ! 

Louis now gave orders to his generals to strengthen the 
garrisons at Ghent and Bruges, and then to go into winter 
quarters. But Marlborough immediately invested Ghent; it 
soon capitulated, although it was so strong that, when Marl- 
borough saw the garrison march out, he could not refrain ex- 
pressing his surprise that such a place should so readily surren- 
der. Ghent having fallen, the enemy abandoned Bruges ; and 
thus ended this extraordinary campaign, that had at first proved 
successful to France, but ended in the loss of all they had 
gained. The party of the Duke of Vendome imputed all their 
misfortunes to the Duke of Burgundy's council, who, on their 
side charged all on the Duke of Vendome. One of Burgundy's 
officers said to Vendome, " See the consequence of your never 
going to mass — to this we must ascribe all our misfortunes ! " 
The duke replied, " Do you imagine that Marlborough goes 
thither oftener than I ? " 



372 GIBRALTAR TAKEN. 

The rapid success of the allies elated the Emperor Joseph, 
who, being now absolute in the empire, and master of Landau, 
saw the road to Paris open by the capture of Lille. A party of 
the Dutch had even forced their way to Versailles by Courtray, 
and, under the very window of the castle, carried off the king's 
master of the horse, whom they mistook for the Dauphin. In 
short, a general consternation now seized Paris. And it ap- 
peared that the emperor had at least as good a chance of placing 
his brother on the throne of Spain as Louis had of maintaining 
it for his grandson. We have seen that the pope had recog- 
nised the archduke as King of Spain. Voltaire said, his holi- 
ness resembled St. Peter at least in this, that he first affirmed, 
then denied, afterwards repented, and then wept; had always ac- 
knowledged Philip V., after the example of his predecessor, and 
was attached to the Bourbon family. The emperor found this 
a convenient time to be revenged on the pope, by annexing to 
the empire several feudatory principalities, or duchies, particu- 
larly of Parma and Placentia, which before had been held of 
the popes ; he likewise ravaged some of the ecclesiastical terri- 
tories, and seized the town of Commacchio. Spiritual thunders 
had no longer any power, therefore Clement XL, animated by 
France, for a moment plucked up courage to arm, but presently 
repented, and left Commacchio to the emperor. 

Admiral Rooke had fallen upon Gibraltar, which he bom- 
barded to very little purpose ; but some of his bold men ven- 
tured to go ashore, where it was not thought possible to climb up 
the rocks — yet they succeeded. On reaching the summit, they 
seized on all the women, who w T ere in a chapel soliciting the 
protection of the Virgin. Their being possessed of them con- 
tributed not a little to dispose those in the town to surrender. 
They had leave to stay or go ; if they stayed, they were sure of 
protection in their religion and every thing else. Thus Gib- 
raltar fell into the hands of the English, who have held it to this 
day. The French and Spaniards made vain attempts to dispos- 
sess them ; desperate naval battles ensued — but all was useless. 
The siege of Gibraltar was raised at a tremendous cost to the 
French ; several strong places surrendered to the allies ; almost 
the whole of Catalonia submitted to the Archduke Charles. 
The monarchy of Spain was, in fact, now divided amongst three 
princes : the emperor had taken for himself Lombardy and the 
kingdom of Naples ; his brother Charles still kept Catalonia and 
part of Arragon. The great efforts of Marshal Berwick had 
proved abortive. Barcelona having been wrested from Philip, 
that marshal's instructions were to recover it at all hazards, 
and Philip himself, accompanied by Tesse, laid siege to the 
capital of Catalonia. But Barcelona was succoured, and the 
French abandoned the siege, after having lost half their army 
and all their ammunition. 



THE aUEEN OF SPAIN. 373 

The Portuguese took all the places they invested, and ad- 
vanced into Estremadura. They were commanded by a French- 
man, created a peer of England, Lord Galloway, formerly the 
the Count de Rouvigny. The troops of France and Spain were 
headed by the Duke of Berwick, bastard of James II., an English 
nobleman, but he could not stay the progress of the conquerors. 
Philip V. remained in Pampeluna, uncertain of his destiny, whilst 
Charles, his competitor, was increasing his party in Catalonia. 
He had made himself master of Arragon, the provinces of Va- 
lencia, Carthagena, and part of Granada; and the English took 
for him Minorca, Ivica, and Alicant. The roads to Madrid 
being now all laid open, Galloway entered that metropolis with- 
out any opposition, and ordered the Archduke Charles to be 
proclaimed king; he also sent a small detachment to perform 
the same ceremony at Toledo. The Duke de Noailles says that 
the most alarming feature of this affair was the uninterrupted 
facility with which the monks, and the medical men, brought 
about this revolution. The means of working the superstition 
of the former gave them abundant opportunities of troubling 
the state ; and the medical attendants were equally dangerous 
from the familiarity enjoyed by them in almost every house. 
Nor had they failed to give vent to their bitterness against 
Philip V., because he employed French surgeons, and a pre- 
ference of that sort inflamed these Spanish sons of Esculapius : 
while the spiritual guides were not less influenced by the king's 
having a French confessor. Philip had retired into France, 
leaving his young queen, worthy at once of the esteem and love 
of the Spaniards, to raise supplies of men and money. After 
the loss of Alcantara, she had attended at the hotel- de-ville, and 
there harangued the magistrates in the most moving way. But 
after taking Salamanca, we have seen that the English marched 
on triumphantly to Madrid. 

The young queen beforehand had been sent to Burgos, 
where the seat of government was established ; while Philip 
joined the small army of the Duke of Berwick. Amidst all 
these terrible scenes, it was remarkable to witness the courage 
of the youthful queen and the king. They had sent their jewels 
into France to raise money upon them; they underwent the 
greatest deprivations, and, environed by perils, kept up each 
other's spirits. From Burgos the queen wrote to Madame de 
Maintenon, recounting her sorrows and perplexities, which she 
says she could have borne up under, if success would but follow 
the king's arms. But the worst of all was, that every day brought 
accounts of fresh disasters. Saragoss arevolted before the enemy 
appeared, Carthagena was lost, and the Portuguese were establish- 
ing themselves at Madrid. The queen deeply felt her father's 
position, which in this letter she deplores. The Spaniards made 



374 THE SPANIARDS ROUSED. 

prodigious efforts at last : the Castilians, animated by a sense of 
duty, as well as by hatred to the Portuguese, now thought of 
nothing but to re-establish the monarchy. Andalusia signalised 
herself: Jaen, Seville, Cordova, and Granada, together raised 
4,000 horse, and 14,000 militia to defend their country. Se- 
veral bishops of Murcia, and elsewhere, redoubled their efforts. 
French troops arrived by way of Navarre, under Legal ; and, 
from the moment of his junction with Philip V. and Berwick, 
the balance turned in their favour. The king longed for a bat- 
tle, which the other side now prudently avoided. Five hundred 
horse were sent by Philip to take possession of Madrid ; in short, 
Philip V., after having been an exile for three months, re-entered 
his capital, and was received with joyful acclamations. 

At the beginning of the year 1707, Louis XIV., seeing Italy 
must be abandoned, sent to the Marquis de Brancas, v/ho had 
served with distinction under De Tesse and Berwick, to furnish 
him with a close account of the actual state of matters. The 
receipt of this induced the French king, at all hazards, to resolve 
upon driving the enemy out of Arragon and Valencia. The 
Duke of Orleans was appointed commander, but not without 
difficulty, as the dishonour of the night from Turin had so 
chafed the mind of Louis XIV. Philip V. wished to accompany 
him ; but as it now was certain that, for the first time, the queen 
was pregnant, it was thought the consequences of his absence 
might be too formidable, and Louis, on this account, decided 
that the Spanish king must not quit Madrid. 

The roused spirit of the Spaniards led Louis XIV. to re- 
double his efforts, and, spite of the cumulation of his embar- 
rassments, losses, and depression, this astonishing people, the 
French, yet contrived to send re-inforcements to Berwick, in 
Castille. The French and Spaniards now gained a famous vic- 
tory over Galloway at Almanza ; neither Philip nor Charles 
were present. The Earl of Peterborough, whom Voltaire calls 
a man famous in every thing, said aloud, " Excellent, indeed I 
that we must fight for two princes who will not fight for them- 
selves." The Duke of Orleans did not arrive till the next day; 
but he made the most of the advantage gained, taking Lerida, 
and several other places. In the midst of this civil war, ani- 
mated by the queen, and brought out by the difficulties of his 
position, the King of Spain rose in his personal character, and 
manifested wonderful vivacity and personal application. He 
wished to get to the bottom of every thing, explained the per- 
plexities of his position to his ministers ; and, when he felt it 
necessary to differ with them, he expounded his own views so 
ably as to charm them with his sense of justice, generosity, and 
decision. 

France, however, was reduced very low— her resources ex- 



A SEVERE WINTER. 375 

hausted, and her credit entirely sunk ; and, as was to be expected, 
the people, who had idolized Louis in prosperity, now turned 
round upon him. Some French merchants went to Peru, and 
brought over a large sum of money, half of which they lent to 
the government, and this was all the king had to pay his troops 
with. Spain, in fact, was in the same predicament, and, like 
France, had only that which her ships brought over from Ame- 
rica, wherewith to pay her armies. But the penalty of " glory" 
was not yet paid in full ; indeed, if we look at the matter criti- 
cally, it must be allowed that the calamities of the great revo- 
lution, the long wars under Napoleon, and the subsequent 
disquietudes, must all be placed to the account of the infamous 
wars and wickedness of the reign of Louis XIV. 

The winter of 1709 exceeded all known in severity, and 
materially aggravated the distresses of France. In Dec. 1708» 
so hard a frost set in, and lasted two months, that the rivers 
were all frozen, and all round the sea-shore ice was formed 
strong enough to bear loaded carts. After a short thaw, the 
intense freezing returned for three weeks, and was such that 
even spirits were frozen in bottles in rooms where fires were 
kept constantly. The olives and almost all other fruit trees 
were killed, even the vines were so destroyed that scarce a vine- 
yard was left in all France. The seed perished in the ground, 
and hopes of harvest were entirely blasted. France had but 
few magazines, and the supplies from the Levant, or Africa, 
were in danger from the English ships. It is true that all Eu- 
rope felt distress from this dreadful winter; but the enemies 
of France had more resources, especially the Dutch, who had 
sufficient stores to supply the allied armies, while the broken 
and dispirited French troops were ready to perish with want 
and misery. Louis now was driven to ask for peace ; Torci and 
Rouille had the mortification of being sent in all humility to 
the Hague; and, being met at Antwerp by two burgomasters, 
were treated with much the same loftiness and contempt with 
which the Dutch had been treated, in 1672, by the French. 

If Voltaire's account be true, the style of those merchants 
was neither very flattering to the French and their confederates, 
nor by any means creditable to their own generosity. Even to 
the German princes, in their own pay, they addressed themselves 
with the most lordly familiarity : * Order Holstein to come hi- 
ther,' said they; * tell Hesse to come and speak with us' — 
meaning the two dukes of those names. They piqued them- 
selves on humbling at once the German pride, in their service, 
and the haughtiness of a monarch formerly their conqueror. 
They desired to have the sovereignty of 10 towns in Flanders, 
amongst which were Lille and Tournay. Thus the Dutch de- 
signed to reap the fruit of the war, not only at the expense of 



376 Marlborough's conquests. 

France, but likewise of Austria, in whose interest they fought. 
Voltaire thinks the example of Venice was before their eyes, 
who had formerly increased her territories from those of all her 
neighbours. Looking at the conduct of that state and Holland, 
he arrives at the conclusion that the republican spirit is, indeed, 
at bottom, as ambitious as the monarchical. Prince Eugene, 
Marlborough, and Heinsius, were determined so to reduce the 
power of France that Europe might have a guarantee for repose ; 
and, therefore, mortifying preliminaries were proposed. A 
truce they would grant, but not a peace ; so that the Marquis de 
Torci left without so much as entering into a negociation. 
Louis threw himself upon his people ; he addressed a circular 
letter to his subjects, exciting their indignation, and even solicit- 
ing their pity. Rouille remained at the Hague, trying to get 
easier terms ; but the States, instead of listening to him, ordered 
him to depart within 24 hours. The King of France accordingly 
was compelled to make preparations for another effort in Flan- 
ders. The numbers who wanted bread enlisted as soldiers : the 
country was desolated by famine — an immense portion of the 
land remained untilled — but an army was raised. Marshal 
Villars w T as again fetched from the south of Germany, as the 
commander most likely to recover the sinking spirits of his 
countrymen. 

Louis had practically agreed to every thing the allies pro- 
posed; the main stumbling-block having been Spain, and he 
offered to withdraw all aid from his grandson, and leave the 
contest to be decided by the Spaniards. But the allies insisted 
on the act of dethronement coming from Louis himself. Even 
this, there is every reason to believe, the distressed king would 
have granted : but France was distrusted by the allies. This 
could not be wondered at, for a feeling that she only sought a pe- 
riod of peace as a means for recovering her finances and restor- 
ing her army, was very general. Something, however, might 
have been reckoned on in the way of security from the unheard 
of prostration of the great kingdom of France ; from the dis- 
tresses of the population ; and from the advancing years and 
natural griefs of the king at the destruction of his long-cherished 
schemes of ambition. But we need not be astonished at reluc- 
tance to trust the French, after their conduct in war and in 
peace. So that fresh proposals of Louis — agreeing to almost every 
humiliation — were rejected at Gertruydenberg ; and warlike 
measures were resumed. The fall of Tournay had added ano- 
ther laurel to Marlborough's brow, and, aided by the Prince 
Eugene, he proceeded to invest Mons. Villars and Boufflers 
opposed them ; as soon as this was known, Marlborough 
marched to attack them near the wood of Blangies and the 
village of Malplaquet. Each side boasted an army of about 



BATTLE OF MALPLACIUET. 377 

80,000 ; the French had 80 or 90 pieces of cannon, and the allies 
above a hundred. Marlborough commanded the right wing, 
composed of English and Germans ; Eugene led the centre ; 
and Tilli, with the Count Nassau, led the left wing, composed of 
Dutch troops. Villars commanded the left wing of the French, 
and Boufflers the right. Such was the eagerness of the French 
soldiers to engage that, although they had fasted a whole day, 
they threw away their rations, to free themselves from all 
incumbrance. 

According to his usual custom, Marlborough caused divine 
service to be performed at three o'clock, on September 11, 1711, 
order and silence pervading all the ranks. The moment service 
was over, the allies commenced operations at the batteries — in 
the midst of a thick fog. When it cleared away, the two armies 
found themselves in the immediate neighbourhood of each 
other. Villars was adored by the troops, and, as he rode along 
their ranks, they shouted, "Vive le roi" — " Vive le Marechal 
de Villars V The battle began and raged for some time with 
unexampled bravery. At length the Prince of Orange made a 
fatal mistake, and impetuously rushing on, contrary to his in- 
structions, caused the loss of a great part of the Dutch infantry. 
Marlborough and Eugene were often in the thickest of the 
battle ; the latter was at length struck by a musket-ball behind 
the ear. He refused to have the wound dressed, observing that, if 
he was fated to die here, it would be of no use to dress the 
wound, and, if he survived, it would be time enough in the even- 
ing ! He rushed again into the hottest of the fire ; and both he 
and Marlborough performed the duties of the most consummate 
generals. 

The tremendous issue was that the French were beaten, and 
lost 16 of their cannon, 20 colours, and 26 standards, with a 
great many prisoners and wounded. Thirty thousand were left 
dead on the field of battle, of whom a much larger portion be- 
longed to the allies than to France, owing to the sad mistake of 
the Prince of Orange. Villars was also severely wounded, and 
consoled himself and Louis XIV. that had he not suffered per- 
sonally he should have gained the victory. Voltaire says the 
marshal had frequently told him so, and seemed to be persuaded 
of it, but that he had met with nobody else of his opinion. The 
French, never noticeable for too much diffidence, found out a 
way of considering their defeat equal to victory. Boufflers said 
" they performed such wonders as even surpassed human na- 
ture !" A distinguished French officer observed — and we can 
but respect the brave fellow for the avowal : " The Eugenes and 
Marlboroughs ought to be well satisfied with us during that 
day ; since, till then, they had not met with resistance worthy of 
them. They may say, with justice, that nothing can stand be- 



378 DEPRESSION OF FRANCE. 

fore themselves ; and, indeed, what shall be able to stem the 
rapid course of these two heroes ? — Do not Marlborough and 
Eugene surpass all the heroes of former ages ?" 

After this awful conflict, the greatest victory obtained in 
modern Europe, the French never more ventured to meet the 
Duke of Marlborough in the field. An elegant writer shows 
that this very hardly contested battle clearly exhibited the supe- 
riority of the English, as the French sustained their defeat from 
no want of skill in their commander, nor want of conduct in 
any part of the army ; to no disadvantages of ground, nor to any 
mishap. That they had well chosen their position, had well 
defended it, and men, officers and commanders had done their 
best. The only blunder was on the part of their enemies — 
which the French had made the most of — and, spite of all, they 
were beaten. A German officer says, in his letter, that no jea- 
lousy existed between Eugene and Marlborough ; that their ef- 
forts were to surpass each other ; and that so it would seem to 
be the case with Villars and Boufflers. In short, that no four 
generals ever exposed themselves more, and none ever deserved 
more from their respective countries. This battle excited the 
wonder of Europe. Marlborough manifested his usual care of 
the wounded ; he sent to the French marshals, and adjusted 
means with them to remove 3,000 of the disabled French ; he 
allowed time for the burying of the dead ; receiving the highest 
encomiums, even from the enemy, for his mercy. 

The third day after the conflict was observed as a day of 
thanksgiving by the whole army ; and the evening concluded 
by a triple discharge of fire-arms. The next day they invested 
Mons; it held out till Sept. 20, when the governor beat a parley; 
hostages were exchanged, and the next day the confederated ge- 
nerals granted them terms, by which they were allowed to march 
out with the honours of war. By the conquests of this cam- 
paign the great towns in Brabant -and Flanders were covered ; 
on this side, the French were reduced to their own limits : and 
the Dutch frontiers, and the adjacent provinces, were exempted 
from the burthen of supplying foraging armies. It was now in- 
tended to invade France by Franche-Comte, and thus, by the 
two extremities, to penetrate into the heart of the kingdom. 
But General Merci, who was directed to enter the higher Alsace, 
by Bale, was obstructed by the Count de Bourg, near Nieu- 
bourg on the Rhine, and was driven back. On the side of Sa- 
voy nothing was attempted ; but owing to the state of matters in 
Flanders, and the increasing misery and depression of the inte- 
rior of France, Louis XIV. continued to supplicate for peace. 

He now even offered to acknowledge the archduke as King 
of Spain ; to render no assistance to his grandson ; to give four 
towns as hostages; to deliver up Strasbourg and Brissac; to 



SECRET MISSION TO SPAIN. 379 

renounce the sovereignty of Alsace ; to demolish all the forts 
between Bale and Philipsbourg ; to fill up the harbour of Dun- 
kirk, and entirely raze the fortifications of that place; and to 
abandon all claim to Lille, Tournay, Ypres, Menin, Fumes, 
Conde, and Maubeuge. These offers were received with con- 
tempt. Whilst the allies treated his overtures thus haughtily, 
they took Douay; and soon after also Bethune, Aire, and St. 
Venant ; and it was even proposed to send detachments to the 
gates of Paris. Almost simultaneously, Staremberg, the Ger- 
man general next in repute to Eugene, and who commanded 
the archduke's army in Spain, on Aug. 20, 1710, gained a com- 
plete victory over the army in which Philip V. placed all his 
hopes. The emperor continued every where successful; nor 
did he derive credit from moderation in prosperity. He dis- 
membered Bavaria, and distributed the jurisdictions amongst 
his relatives and dependants. He seized dominions in Italy 
very unceremoniously ; and he overcame his old Hungarian 
malcontents. One Prince Ragotski, whom France had incited, 
took up arms ; he was defeated, his towns taken, and his party 
ruined. Thus, says Voltaire (a most reluctant witness), Louis 
XIV. was equally unfortunate abroad as at home — by sea as 
by land — in his public negociations, as well as his private in- 
trigues. 

Philip V. had returned to Madrid, as we saw at p. 374 ; he 
now again quitted that city, and retired to Valladolid, whilst 
the Archduke Charles made his entry into the capital triumph- 
antly. Louis had been compelled to do what he offered as the 
price of peace to the allies : no longer able to assist his grand- 
son, he now abandoned his cause by withdrawing his armies for 
the defence of France. The distress of Spain was even greater 
than in Louis' dominions ; she had been invaded by Portugal, 
and all her commerce was destroyed : scarcity was . general 
throughout the kingdom, which indeed affected the party of the 
archduke more than Philip's. The Duke of Orleans had become 
the enemy of the latter. All the Catalonians were in favour of 
Charles, and half of Arragon remained true to his interests. 
Voltaire says that at this conjuncture the Duke of Orleans, of 
the same name with Philip, began to entertain hopes that he 
might himself step into the Spanish throne. But Philip V. was 
immoveable in his resolution to maintain Spain ; and his firm- 
ness on this point, with the pride of success on the part of his 
enemies, rendered it difficult to procure peace. We learn from 
the Memoirs of the Due de Noailles that, before entering on 
fresh negociations, D' Iberville was sent to Spain with a secret 
mission to solicit, in the name of the Elector of Bavaria, the 
execution of treaties whereby his losses were to be made good 
by transferring to him the four places that remained to Philip 



380 THE DUKE OF VENDOME. 

in the Low Countries, Luxembourg, Namur, Charleroi, and 
Nieuport. 

As this envoy was to proceed to Versailles from Spain, the 
Spanish ministry confidentially painted to him the melancholy 
state of affairs ; assuring him that, if Louis XIV. deserted them, 
the Spaniards would know no measure in their resentments. 
They would unreservedly join the enemies of France, granting 
to them every commercial advantage, and that the allies, as- 
sisted by Spain, would invade Guienne and Languedoc, and in- 
cite the protestants to rise against their old persecutors. On the 
other hand, a remedy for present disasters might yet be found, 
by making a diversion in Catalonia, and forcing the archduke to 
abandon Spain. The general opinion seemed to correspond with 
this view, and D' Iberville was sent off with vague hopes of the 
success of his mission, provided Louis remained true to Spain. 
A letter soon came from Louis to Philip to insist on peace ; 
complaining of the treatment the French received in Spain. 
The scheme of the Duke of Orleans to mount the contested 
throne was discovered when he himself was at Versailles ; his 
agents in Spain were immediately arrested. Philip was en- 
raged ; the Dauphin, Philip's father, gave it as his opinion, in 
council, that Orleans ought to be proceeded against for high 
treason ; but Louis preferred, says Voltaire, to bury in silence 
this unformed and excusable project, rather than to punish his 
nephew at a time when his grandson was on the brink of des- 
truction. 

Philip's council now determined to solicit Louis to send the 
Duke of Vendome to oppose Staremberg, as they felt they had 
no commander equal to the task. Vendome had retired to 
Anet, whence he was fetched ; as the Spaniards looked more 
to the reputation he had acquired in Italy than to the disasters 
at Lille. His popularity was great in Spain ; and his liberality 
to the soldiery, added to his openness of disposition, gained 
him universal esteem. His name alone drew numbers of vo- 
lunteers ; the cities, boroughs, and religious houses, supplied 
him with money. The enthusiasm of the people was excited ; 
the shattered remains of the defeated army at Saragossa were 
re-assembled, and united under him at Valladolid. The Duke 
of Vendome turned the ardour to account, brought the king 
once more back to Madrid, and compelled the enemy to retire 
to Portugal. He followed them across the Tagus, took Gene- 
ral Stanhope prisoner at Brihuega, with 6,000 English ; came 
up with General Staremberg, and gave him battle the next day 
at Villaviciosa. Philip V., who had never yet fought in person 
with his other generals, being animated by the spirit of Ven- 
dome, put himself at the head of the right wing. Here they 
gained a victory. And in the space of four months, matters 



TORY INTRIGUES. 381 

were considerably amended ; quiet was restored, and the crown 
of Spain eventually settled on Philip. 

The councils of England had changed ; and the influence of 
Marlborough had greatly declined. From almost supreme 
power, in connexion with the Whigs, the Tories had now the 
ascendancy, and party spirit, the curse of England, had led to 
attempts at nullifying the effects of Marlborough's splendid 
victories. In short, the Tories were for selling their country. 
Marlborough had acquired — and he well merited the pre-emi- 
nence — more power and distinction than ever fell to the lot of 
a private Englishman ; that power was probably encreased by 
his immense wealth. The duchess had been the intimate friend 
of Queen Anne. The former was a superior and intellectual 
character, the queen being as low in her understanding as in 
her habits ; for her majesty was addicted to drinking spirituous 
liquors; and as her husband was a very weak man, for many 
years, in reality, almost sovereign power had been wielded by 
the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. Their son was now 
dead, and their three daughters were married, the one to the 
Earl of Sunderland, the other to the son of Lord Godolphin ; 
and the third to the Earl of Bridgewater, friends and co-adjutors 
of the great commander. 

By intrigues, which the plan of this work forbids my fol- 
lowing, the Tories displaced the Whigs, pretending the usual 
stuff of releasing the queen from slavery. In reality, anxious 
for the good things possessed by the Whigs ; desirous to lower 
the vast influence of the duke ; and, above all things, to re- 
store the Stuarts. Indeed, there is no doubt that the poor 
creature Anne — a mere puppet in the hands of these bold, bad 
men, the Tories — herself was disposed to forward the plan of 
turning aside the protestant line of Brunswick. The Tories, 
having mastered the queen, had yet to ride the nation. Vol- 
taire says they were obliged to have recourse to religion — " of 
which they have no more in Great Britain than what is neces- 
sary to distinguish parties ! " If it were so 130 years ago, what 
better position in this repect are we in now ? The Tories were 
for episcopacy, always reckoning on the bishops, and were wil- 
ling to restore the Stuarts, and preach up passive obedience. 

They therefore spirited up the famous Sacheverel to preach 
at St. Paul's a sermon, painting Marlborough and the Whigs 
in the most odious colours, and blackening the whole party 
who had fixed the crown on King William. He was however 
tried, found guilty, and the united influence of the queen, and 
the tools of toryism, the bishops, was not enough to prevent the 
new apostle's sermon from being publicly burnt, and himself 
silenced for three years, by both houses of parliament. The 
fermentation of this period belongs to English history ; we have 



332 ENGLISH POWER. 

no farther to do with it than as bearing on the conclusion of the 
war, and exhibiting the consistency, spirit, and patriotism of the 
Whigs, the ancient defenders of civil and religious liberty — as 
opposed to the rancorous hatred of the Tories to all which could 
adorn, bless, and magnify their country. Perhaps, amidst all 
the vile deeds of this infamous section, one of the most dis- 
graceful was shown to the world in the rage of party zeal lead- 
ing to destroy all the benefits of Marlborough's wonderful 
successes by a shameful peace. 

The queen herself — set on by the Tories and the bishops of 
the high-church party, addressed good Bishop Burnet and said, 
she hoped bishops would not be against peace. To this the 
worthy historian replied that a real and good peace was what 
good bishops daily prayed for ; but they were satisfied the pre- 
liminaries offered by France gave no hopes of such an one ; and 
experience had shown that it would be a very strange thing to 
trust to the King of France. Queen Anne replied we need not 
regard preliminaries; we should have a peace upon such a 
bottom that we should not at all rely upon the king's word ; but 
we ought to suspend our opinions till acquainted with the whole 
matter. Burnet asked leave to speak his mind plainly. To this 
the queen assenting, he told her any peace by which Spain and 
the West Indies were left to Philip, must in a little while deliver 
all Europe into the hands of France ; and if it should be so con- 
cluded, she was betrayed, and we were all ruined ; and in less 
than three years' time, the fires would be raised in Smithfield. 
The queen grew uneasy, and the honest bishop withdrew. Al- 
though the new ministry were strongly inclined for peace, and 
proposals were secretly offered in London, they were not yet 
secure enough to venture to accept them. 

Louis, Dauphin, Monseigneur, died at Meudon, April 14, 
1711. This prince had married Maria- Anne-Christiana- Victoria 
of Bavaria, (she died April 20, 1719,) by her he had 1, Louis, 
Duke of Burgundy (father of Louis XV., who was born Feb. 15, 
1710); 2, the King of Spain, Philip V.; and 3, Charles, Duke 
of Berry, who died May 4, 1714. The Emperor Joseph died 
April 17, 1711. He left the Archduke Charles the empire, and 
his pretensions on Spain and America. This certainly produced 
a great effect throughout Europe, as people began to say, if so 
much alarm had been created, and so much had been done to 
prevent Louis XIV. from governing Spain, America, Lombardy, 
Naples, and Sicily, under the name of his grandson, why should 
they now consent to so many dominions being united under 
the house of Austria? Why should the English exhaust their 
treasures ? They contributed more than Holland and Germany 
together, and the present year their expenses to carry on the 
war were £7,000.000. It was also thought by many that Great 



SEVERAL SUSPICIOUS DEATHS. 383 

Britain was ruining herself for the purpose practically of get- 
ting an extent of territory for her great rival in commerce, Hol- 
land. A considerable difficulty arose as to the treaties of 
alliance existing between us and other powers; and Marlbo- 
rough, though politically defunct, was in the field carrying on 
hostilities. 

He made continual advances in Flanders, and forced the 
lines which Villars had drawn from Montreuil to Valenciennes. 
Having taken Bouchain, he advanced as far as Quesnoi — thence 
to Paris there was hardly a singl fort to oppose him. However, 
towards the end of 1711, it was told De Torci, French Secretary 
of State, that a stranger would speak with him. A man was in- 
troduced who was in the confidence of the leading Tories at 
London : he asked the French minister if he wished for peace ? 
To this Torci says he felt it like asking a dying man if he wished 
to be cured. From that moment matters went on rapidly. 
The negociations for peace were now publicly entered upon at 
London. The Earl of Strafford was sent ambassador to Holland, 
to lay before the States the proposals of Louis XIV. But Marl- 
borough, Eugene and Heinsius yet resolved to distress France. 
Louis was quick enough to perceive the pitiful subserviency of 
the Tories, and set about separating England from her allies. 

A great change took place in the affairs of France at this 
very time. The dauphiness was taken suddenly ill of a surfeit, 
as it was given out, and died within three days, on February 12, 
1712. In six days afterwards the dauphin (whom we have all 
along known as the Duke of Burgundy, and who had succeeded 
to the title of dauphin only since the death of his father the 
year before,) also died. A few days after him his eldest son, the 
Duke of Bretagne ; he was only five years old. His only bro- 
ther (afterwards Louis XV.) was at the time taken very ill, and 
was thought to be dying. The king himself was suddenly seized 
with illness, but he soon recovered. As is usual on such occa- 
sions, poison was suspected; and the Duke of Orleans was 
pointed at, because he was fond of experiments with chemistry, 
was known to be ambitious, and because Louis had compelled 
the Duke of Berri to marry his daughter, which had called forth 
some haughty expressions of disgust from Philip V., as the first 
wife of Orleans had been one of Louis' bastard daughters ; and 
they looked upon this as corrupting the blood of France ! 

The dauphin had long stood before the public, and secured 
a large share of affection and respect by the sentiments of justice 
which pervaded his breast, and the deep sense he felt of the mi- 
series of the poor. He had been educated by the good Fene- 
lon, and his liberal tendencies, it was conjectured, had enlisted 
the hatred of the Jesuits. The French severely felt his death, 
and were struck with consternation at the prospect of a long 



384 MARLBOROUGH DISGRACED. 

minority after such a reign, and under present circumstances of 
depression. These domestic misfortunes must have weighed 
heavily upon the king, who saw the hopes of his family thus 
ruthlessly hurried away. Louis had had too much experience 
himself of the perils of a minority not to contemplate with anx- 
iety the long interval between his own declining days and the 
succession of his great-grandson. Philip V. was natural heir to 
the throne after his infant nephew, but he had on oath re- 
nounced his rights ; and the known integrity of his character 
precluded any fear of the violation of his engagement. The 
next was the Duke of Orleans — a man of a very mixed charac- 
ter — having the reputation of talent. He was fierce, and gene- 
rous, though steeped in crime ; still he was deemed too high- 
minded to endanger the safety of the child. Louis was distracted 
as to the course to pursue in making a selection of a regent: 
many suggested his calling together the states-general and lay- 
ing before them the state of matters. How r ever, Louis declin- 
ed to part with sovereignty, and made a will, August 2, 1714, 
leaving the regency to the Duke of Orleans ; and the guar- 
dianship of the heir to the throne, and the command of the 
household troops, to the Duke of Maine. He herein appointed 
a council of which the Duke of Orleans was to be president, 
and all decisions were to go upon a plurality of votes. He 
caused the parliament to register an edict which might have 
disturbed his will ; for he declared his illegitimate children ca- 
pable of succeeding to the throne, in default of princes of the 
blood. But the long life of Louis XV., with the judgment of the 
Duke of Orleans, prevented any inconvenience from this edict; 
and the will of Louis XIV., if not rigidly observed in all parti- 
culars by the regent, substantially proved a guide and a fence. 

When Louis could no longer sin, he became devout — but 
his religion must needs be tinged with the pomp of his in- 
flated character ; and with the solemn De Maintenon for his 
guide, in affairs spiritual and temporal, he passed his old age in 
much the same selfish retirement and gloom which w r e have wit- 
nessed in our own time and country in the case of the more 
selCsh, gaudy, heartless, and depraved, George IV., who was 
detested living, and hissed at wiien dead. 

Marlborough, on his return to London, was divested of all 
his employments, and was accused, in the vile spirit of party 
persecution, of misdemeanours. He threw up his appointments, 
but was powerful even in disgrace. His friend Prince Eugene 
came over to London to strengthen Marlborough's hands, and 
met with the reception due to his distinguished merit. But the 
main object he had in view was the return of his friend with him 
to prosecute the war. In this he w r as disappointed, and had to 
resume his arduous duties alone, which Voltaire says proved 



MISTAKE OF EUGENE. 385 

a fresh incitement to him to hope for new victories. The con- 
ferences were carrying on at Utrecht ; meanwhile Villars, having 
retired behind his lines, covered Arras and Cambray. Eugene 
took Quesnoi, and extended an army of about 100,000 men : the 
Dutch having made surprising efforts to furnish even beyond 
their contingent. Queen Anne could not yet detach herself 
from the alliance; but, having withdrawn the great duke, she 
substituted for his powerful talents the Duke of Ormond, with 
orders he stands everlastingly disgraced for taking, as well as the 
vile Tory administration for giving — with orders — not to fight ! 
Scandalously were all the English troops and the squadrons of 
Holstein, drawn off. Brandenburg, the Palatinate, Saxony, Hesse, 
and Denmark, remained under Eugene, and were paid by the 
Dutch. Even the Elector of Hanover (honour be to his me- 
mory !) would not withdraw his army; showing, says Voltaire, 
that though his family expected the crown of England, they did 
not build their hopes on any favour from the queen. And I 
think we ought to add — showing that he had just conceptions 
of the relative position of France and England, and his appre- 
ciation of what was due to the honour and welfare of the latter 
country. 

Eugene was still very strong, and superior to his foe by 
situation, by plenty, and by long succession ,of victories. Vil- 
lars could not prevent his besieging Landreci. France was at 
the lowest point, drained of men and money — her only hope of 
salvation the conferences at Utrecht. The enemy ravaged Cham- 
pagne, and were at the gates of Rheims. About now, the Duke 
of Vendome, having done so much for the restoration of the 
monarchy, died in Spain ; and the general dejection by reason 
of the cumulation of calamity in France, spread to the Peninsula, 
which every one thought would be lost by his death. It was 
debated in a council at Versailles whether or not the king should 
not retire to Chambord. Louis himself said, in case of any new 
misfortune, he would summon together all the nobility of his 
kingdom, and, notwithstanding he was in his 74th year, would 
lead them on against the enemy, and die at their head ! One does 
not like to triumph over a prostrate foe, but who can help reflect- 
ing on the paths of glory / 

So remarkable are the changes in human life, that this neces- 
sity was prevented by a mistake of Prince Eugene. His lines 
were too much extended, his stores at too great a distance, and 
the position of General Albemarle at Denain, prevented his 
being speedily succoured. A very beautiful Italian lady, in the 
keeping of Prince Eugene, resided then at Marchiennes, and 
she was the cause of the magazine being fixed at that place. 
Voltaire says, " It seems not to be doing justice to Prince Eu- 
gene to imagine that a woman should influence his military dis- 

z 



386 TREATY OF UTRECHT. 

positions. Those who know that a curate, together with a coun- 
sellor of Douay, named Le Fevre d'Orval, walking towards these 
parts, were the first who projected the attack on Denain and 
Marchiennes, may demonstrate, from this fact, by what secret 
and weak springs the greatest affairs of this world are often 
directed. Le Fevre gave his opinion to the governor of the pro- 
vince ; he communicated it to Marshal Montesquieu, who com- 
manded under Villars. The general approved of it, and put it 
into execution. This action proved in effect the safety of France, 
more than the peace with England. 

" Villars had recourse to stratagem ; he ordered a body of 
dragoons to advance in sight of the enemy's camp, as if they 
were about to attack it; and, whilst these retired towards Guise, 
the marshal marched to Denain, July 24, 1712, with his army in 
five columns, and forced the entrenchments of General Albe- 
marle, defended by seventeen battalions, who were all killed or 
taken. The general surrendered himself a prisoner, together 
with two Princes of Nassau, a Prince of Holstein, a Prince of 
Anhalt, and all the officers. Prince Eugene hastened with what 
troops he could get, but did not arrive till the action was over. 
He went to attack a bridge leading to Denain, that the French 
guarded; but in this attempt he lost most of his men, and was 
obliged to return to his camp, after witnessing this defeat. All 
the posts towards Marchiennes, along the Scarpe, w r ere carried 
one after another with great rapidity. The French now ad- 
vanced to Marchiennes, defended by 4,000 men; and besieged 
the place with so much vigour that, within three days, the whole 
garrison were made prisoners, July 30, 1712, together with all 
the provisions and warlike stores which the enemy had amassed 
for the campaign. Villars had now the superiority ; the allies, 
being disconcerted, raised the siege of Landreci, and suffered 
Douay, Quesnoi, and Bouchain, to be retaken, during Septem- 
ber and October 1712 ; so that the frontiers were now in security. 
The army of Prince Eugene retreated, after having lost 50 batta- 
lions, 40 of which from the battle of Denain to the end of the 
campaign, had been taken prisoners. ,, 

Every step of Villars hastened the peace of Utrecht. The 
English ministers insisted that Philip V. should renounce all 
pretensions to the crown of France ; and that his brother, the 
Duke of Berri, heir-apparent (after Louis' great-grandson, now 
thought to be at the point of death), should likewise renounce 
all claim to the crown of Spain, should he become King of 
France. By this treaty the Duke of Savoy had the island of 
Sicily, with the title of king ; adding Fenestrelles, Exiles, with 
the valley of Pragilas, on the continent ; thus aggrandizing him 
at the expense of the house of Bourbon. The Dutch had that 
barrier fixed which they had always desired ; and as they had ab- 



DIVISION OF PLUNDER. 387 

stracted from the house of Bourbon for the Duke of Savoy, they 
now took a little from the house of Austria to satisfy the Dutch, 
who at their expense became masters of the strongest towns in 
Flanders. The commercial interests of Holland were taken care 
of; and articles were stipulated for in favour of Portugal. To 
the emperor was allotted the sovereignty of the Ten Provinces 
in Spanish Flanders ; and the important government of the bar- 
rier towns. He was also confirmed in the kingdom of Naples 
and Sardinia, with all his possessions in Lombardy, and the four 
sea-ports on the coasts of Tuscany ; but the council of Vienna, 
looking upon themselves as aggrieved, would not agree to these 
conditions. 

In regard to Great Britain, her interest and glory, says Vol- 
taire, (from whom I am condensing, unto the end of the ar- 
rangements made at the conclusion of the war) were eritirely 
secured. She caused Dunkirk to be demolished ; she retained 
Minorca and Gibraltar ; Hudson's Bay, Newfoundland, and 
Nova Scotia. She gained privileges of trade with America, not 
even granted to the French who placed Philip on the throne. 
England also compelled Louis to set at liberty those of his pro- 
testant subjects who had been confined for their religious prin- 
ciples. Queen Anne, at last, sacrificing the rights of blood, and 
her own inclinations, to the good of her country, had the suc- 
cession settled and secured upon the house of Hanover. The 
able Frenchman evidently saw the vast importance of this point ; 
and to secure the recognition of the protestant dynasty, and the 
guarantees at every stage for the peaceful succession of the pre- 
sent royal family, was the great work of the Whigs and Liberals 
of those days. As to the Electors of Bavaria and Cologne, the 
former was to keep the Duchy of Luxembourg and the county 
of Namur, till he and his brother were re-established in their 
electorates ; for Spain had abandoned those two sovereignties 
to the Bavarian, as a recompense for his losses; and the allies 
had taken neither Namur nor Luxembourg. 

France was allowed Lille, Aire, Bethune, and St. Venant. 
Thus, continues Voltaire, the English ministry rendered justice 
to all parties ; but they themselves did not meet with the like 
candour from the Whigs. Because, say other writers, and in 
some respects perhaps superior in means of forming a judgment 
to Voltaire — we were materially damaged in our silk manufac- 
ture, by a free importation of that commodity from France ; in 
the fabrication of paper similarly. In short, while flattering 
addresses were being laid before the queen, from those who 
could not appreciate the commercial bearings of the treaties, 
by the trading part of the community the evils were perceived, 
and petitions were hurried up from the towns and counties con- 
cerned in trade, setting forth the prejudice they apprehended 



388 PEACE ALSO WITH GERMANY. 

from this treaty of commerce. The Londoners were alarmed; 
the Turkey company, and those that traded to Portugal and Italy, 
and all concerned in woollen or silk manufactures, appeared 
before both houses of parliament, to set forth the great mischief 
that a commerce with France on the footing of this treaty 
would bring upon the nation; while none appeared on the 
other side. 

In so disastrous a light did Burnet view this treaty of peace, 
that he thus concludes the reign of Queen Anne : " I am now 
come to the end of the war, and of this parliament, both at 
once : it was fit that they should bear some proportion to one 
another ; for as this was the worst parliament I ever saw, so no 
assembly, but one composed as this was, could have sat quiet 
under such a peace. But I am now arrived at my full period, 
and so shall close this work. I had a noble prospect before 
me, in a course of many years, of bringing it to a glorious con- 
clusion ; now the scene is so fatally altered that I can scarcely 
restrain myself from giving vent to a just indignation, in severe 
complaints. But a historian must tell things as they are, and 
leave the descanting on them to others." These treaties were 
signed one after another in 1713. Either through Eugene's 
influence, or the bad policy of the emperor's council, he would 
not enter into these negociations, and determined to continue 
the war. Villars therefore marched towards the Rhine; and 
after having made himself master of Spires, Worms, and the 
adjacent country, took Landau, Aug. 20, 1713, which the em- 
peror would have preserved by peace. He forced the entrench- 
ments that Prince Eugene had drawn in the Brisgau, and de- 
feated Vaubonne within his lines, on September 20. He also 
took Fribourg, October 30, the metropolis of Upper Austria. 

The emperor at length became sensible that, without Eng- 
land and Holland, he could not oppose France ; and now re- 
solved to make peace. Villars, having thus ended the war, had 
the honour of concluding another peace at Rastadt with Prince 
Eugene. This was, says Voltaire, perhaps the first instance of 
two generals meeting at the end of a campaign, to treat in the 
name of their masters. Their conduct at meeting was charac- 
teristic. Villars records that one of his first expressions to Eu- 
gene was : " Sir, we are not enemies to each other ; your enemies 
are at Vienna, and mine at Versailles." Both, indeed, had 
always faction to struggle against at their own courts. In this 
treaty no mention was made of the rights which the emperor 
pretended upon Spain. Louis XIV. kept Strasbourg and Lan- 
dau, that he had before proposed to resign, together with Hun- 
inguen and New Brissac, that he had offered to demolish. He 
also retained the sovereignty of Alsace, formerly proposed to be 
renounced. To his honour it should also be told that he now 



DEMOLITION OF MARDYKE. 389 

insisted on, and succeeded in effecting the restoration of the 
Electors of Bavaria and Cologne in all their dominions and 
honours. 

Each power now took possession of its new rights. The 
Duke of Savoy was acknowledged in Sicily, without consulting 
the complaining emperor. The French took possession of Lille. 
The Dutch seized the barrier towns. Louis ordered the harbour 
of Dunkirk to be filled up, the citadel to be rased to the ground, 
and all the fortifications, and the mole, to be destroyed in the 
sight of the English commissary. The Dunkirkers, seeing their 
commerce entirely ruined, sent a deputation of their number 
to Queen Anne. It was a sad mortification to Louis XIV. that 
his subjects should go to solicit the favour of a Queen of Eng- 
land ; but it was still more mortifying to them that the queen 
was obliged to refuse their request. The King of France soon 
caused the canal of Mardyke to be enlarged ; and, by means of 
the sluices, a harbour was constructed, equal to that of Dunkirk. 
The Earl of Stair, our ambassador at the court of France, made 
warm remonstrances to Louis : his majesty replied, " Mr. Am- 
bassador, I have been always master in my own kingdom, and 
sometimes in others : do not remind me of this." Voltaire says 
he is quite certain Louis never made this speech, so commonly 
attributed to him ; for he had never been master in England, 
but was as far from that as could possibly be. He was, indeed, 
master in his own dominions ; but the question was whether he 
was so far master as to be able to elude a treaty to which he 
owed his present tranquillity, and, perhaps, the greatest part of 
his kingdom. 

However in April, 1714, Louis ordered the works of Mar- 
dyke to be discontinued ; and they were demolished shortly 
after his death. Notwithstanding the peace of Utrecht, and that 
of Rastadt, Philip V. did not enjoy all the Spanish monarchy; 
he had still Catalonia to subdue, as well as the islands of Ma- 
jorca and Ivica. The emperor, having left his consort at Bar- 
celona, and finding he could not support the war in Spain, had 
agreed with Queen Anne that the empress and his troops should 
be embarked in English vessels. Catalonia thus was evacuated, 
and Staremberg resigned the title of viceroy ; but he left all the 
seeds of a civil war, and hopes of speedy relief from the em- 
peror, and even from England. Louis XIV. now was enabled 
to supply Philip with ships and soldiers to quell the revolt; Bar- 
celona was blockaded by a French fleet, and Marshal Berwick 
besieged it by land. 

England, faithful to treaties, did not succour this town ; the 
besieged defended themselves with a courage supported by fa- 
natical madness. The priests and monks ran to arms, and 
mounted the breaches, as if they fought for religion. " The 



390 THE ELECTRESS SOPHIA. 

phantom of liberty," observes Voltaire, " rendered them deaf to 
all the offers made by their master. More than 500 ecclesiastics 
lost their lives in arms at this siege ; they hung out a black flag 
from the breach, and bore several assaults in a surprising man- 
ner. The assailants at last forced their way, the besieged fought 
from street to street; and finally capitulating, on September 12, 
1714, saved their lives and property, but lost most of their pri- 
vileges. Sixty monks were condemned to the galleys ; and this 
was the only vengeance taken. This fury of the Catalans was 
the last flame of that fire which had laid waste the most beau- 
tiful part of Europe, for so considerable a time, occasioned by 
the will of Charles II. of Spain." 

Queen Anne died in August 1714, aged 50. Her reign forms 
a brilliant epoch in English history from the victories of Marl- 
borough. But her mawkish character deprived her of the firm- 
ness necessary to distinguish the merits and virtues of her sub- 
jects ; and, whilst she suffered herself to be governed by a cabal, 
she lost the power of destroying the dissensions which agitated 
her courtiers. Under her administration the completion of the 
plan for uniting Scotland to England, projected by William III., 
took place. The celebrity of her reign is in no way attribut- 
able to her personal energies, which were of a very humble 
order. It was her good fortune to have the ablest statesmen 
that ever lived for her servants ; and, among her subjects, the 
most learned, sublime, and eloquent writers, in the walks of 
poetry, science, and general literature. So that her reign has 
been justly denominated the Augustan age of England. Her 
vile desertion of the great Marlborough, her high-church pre- 
dilections towards the re-establishment of popery and the Stuarts, 
that were fostered by the Tory party of the day, are in some 
sense perhaps attributable to her alleged detestable habit of 
drinking — what in low life would be called gin, but in her case it 
was more courtly to attribute it to a liking for " strong waters." 
She passed to her grave little beloved by any, though greatly 
be-praised by the French for the determination she had shown 
to raise France at the expense of England, and her known 
hatred to real protestantism, and wishes for the restoration of 
her father's line. Only three months previously, the Electress 
Sophia died at the advanced age of 84, retaining her faculties 
both of mind and body in a very striking degree. So animated 
was she with the idea of being Queen of England that she was 
often heard to say, "Could I live to have ' Sophia, Queen of 
England,' engraven on my coffin, I should die content." She 
was the daughter of Frederic, the unfortunate King of Bohemia, 
and Elizabeth, only daughter of James I. 

In just indignation at the treatment he had received from 
the late queen and the Tories, the Duke of Marlborough had 



THE TORIES ENCOURAGE THE PRETENDER. 391 

retired from England, and had lived partly in his principality of 
Mildenheim, and partly in Holland. But, owing to the strong 
affection of the duchess for her native country, the duke and 
duchess determined to return. In one of her letters she said, 
" I had rather die in a cottage in England than live in a palace 
abroad." They landed at Dover on the very day of the queen's 
death. Previous to their landing, the vessel was boarded by a 
messenger from the postmaster-general, who informed them of 
the death of the queen, and that the Elector of Hanover had 
been proclaimed as her successor. His grace was escorted by 
numbers of the resident gentry to Sittingbourne ; and thence he 
proceeded to London, intending to enter privately. But he was 
met by Sir Charles Cox, one of the members for Southwark, 
with 200 respectable inhabitants, who escorted him through the 
Borough on horse-back. Fresh numbers joined them in the 
city, with many of the nobility in carriages drawn by six horses. 
The people everywhere crowded to see him, thousands sincerely 
and joyfully exclaiming, " Long live the king ! " " Long live the 
Duke of Marlborough ! " 

The influence of the Tories when last he appeared at court 
was such that no one took the slightest notice of him. Now, 
however, the day after his arrival, the duke was visited by most 
of the foreign ministers, and many of the nobility, gentry, and 
officers of the army. He was sworn of the privy council, and 
immediately made his appearance in the house of lords. On 
his way, his sedan was followed through the park by crow T ds of 
soldiers, and others, cheering him all the way with loud huzzas. 
The king arrived at Greenwich on the 18th, where he was 
greeted by a splendid assemblage of noblemen and gentlemen. 
No one appeared with more magnificence than the duke, nor 
was there one to whom the king showed more distinguished 
marks of favour and esteem. At the earnest solicitation of the 
duchess, he agreed to join the ministry no more, and merely 
was appointed captain-general of the land forces, colonel of the 
1st regiment of foot guards, and master of the ordnance. His 
son-in-law, Lord Godolphin, was made cofferer of the house- 
hold ; his other son-in-law, Lord Sunderland, was appointed to 
the lord-lieutenancy of Ireland ; and the Earl of Bridgewater, 
his third son-in-law, also had a place. 

Though the Elector of Hanover had succeeded quietly to 
the throne, he was not long permitted to enjoy its tranquillity. 
Louis still allowed the Pretender to remain in Lorraine, and 
Bolingbroke and Ormond instigated the Jacobites to a rising 
in favour of the exile. A reward of £100,000 was offered to 
whomsoever should seize him, dead or alive ; and all necessary 
precautions were taken. The Duke of Marlborough, as captain- 
general of the forces, gave such orders as rendered the attempt 



392 LAST DAYS OF THE 

abortive. He suggested Preston as the spot, and there it turned 
out that the " revivers of ancient discipline " met with their 
final overthrow. The Pretender was hailed as "king" by the 
antallactual Scots. Mr. Coxe has a beautiful passage here: 
" The gracefulness of the Pretender's person, the glowing en- 
ergy of his language, the recollection of his misfortunes, the 
admiration excited by his courage, made a deep impression on 
hearts burning with loyalty and devotion to the blood of their 
native princes. The effect was heightened by the sublimity of 
the mountain scenery, the romantic dress and arms of the high- 
lands, and the solemn grandeur of the royal palace, which re- 
called to mind the splendid scenes of Scottish glory." 

But this poetry was all. The royal aspirant found success 
impracticable, clandestinely embarked on board a French vessel, 
and abandoned the enterprise. This was the last scene of pub- 
lic action in which the great Duke of Marlborough took a part. 
His latter days were clouded with sorrows : his only son, we 
have seen, died in the bloom of youth. His third daughter, 
the Countess of Bridgewater, died in the 26th year of her age. 
Soon after their return from the continent, their favourite 
daughter, the Countess of Sunderland, was also taken away. 
These trials so affected him that he was seized with paralysis, 
but rallied sufficiently to go to Bath. On approaching that city 
he was greeted by the peals of bells, a numerous cavalcade, 
and congratulating thousands ; and the mayor and corporation 
waited upon him to wish for a restoration of his health. While 
there, he had another attack, and was not expected to live ; 
however, he so far recovered as to return to Marlborough- 
house, London. 

He offered to resign his public employments ; but, though 
the period of activity and usefulness had passed away, the king 
too highly valued the weight of his character to part with him. 
He lived till June, 15, 1722 ; and we learn from the duchess 
herself, that, " though he had often returns of this illness, he 
went many journeys, and was in all appearance well; excepting 
that he could not pronounce all words, which is common in 
that distemper ; but his understanding was as good as ever." 
We gather from Mr. Coxe that his habits were entirely domes- 
tic. His constant exercise was riding, and when his health 
permitted, in walking round his grounds, particularly at Blen- 
heim. He received his friends unceremoniously, and enjoyed 
cards with them. He played with his grand-children, superin- 
tended the education of his grand-daughter, and caused little 
dramatic representations to be got up for their entertainment. 
From Marlborough-house he moved to Windsor-lodge, where 
he was again suddenly taken with the palsy. He lay several 
days aware of his approaching dissolution ; prayers were con- 



DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 393 

stantly offered up at his bed-side, and the duchess asking him 
if he heard them, he replied " Yes, and joined in them." From 
his couch he wished to be removed to his bed, when, towards 
4 o'clock, June 15, 1722, he calmly passed away, aged 73 years, 
within seven days. 

Thus died our great hero, whom five monarchs had em- 
ployed in their service. He lay in state at Marlborough-house 
for some days, and was afterwards taken to Westminster Abbey ; 
his funeral exhibiting the most astonishing display, to throw 
around his remains all imaginable honour and glory. The 
body was afterwards taken up and carried to the chapel at Blen- 
heim, where it was deposited in a magnificent mausoleum. The 
duke died so immensely rich that the duchess was able to con- 
trol the public loans, and even affect the rate of public interest. 
As his son was dead, the duke was succeeded in his honours 
by his daughter, Lady Godolphin. The duchess survived her 
illustrious husband 22 years, dying at the age of 84, in the 
year 1744. The attachment which subsisted between the duke 
and duchess was proverbial. He was a sweet-tempered, affec- 
tionate husband, while hers were the qualifications of spirit and 
a " difficult temper." 

An interesting anecdote is given by Lord Wharncliffe : " The 
duchess had still, at a great age, considerable remains of beauty, 
most expressive eyes, and the finest hair imaginable ; the colour 
of which she had preserved unchanged by the constant use of 
honey-water. By this superb head of hair hung a tale (tail ?), 
an instance of her waywardness and violence, which, strange to 
say, she took particular pleasure in telling. None of her charms, 
when they were at their proudest height, had been so fondly 
prized by the poor duke, her husband. Therefore, one day, 
upon his offending her, by some act of disobedience to her ■ so- 
vereign will/ the bright thought occurred, as she sat considering 
how she might plague him most, that it would be a hearty vexa- 
tion to see his favourite tresses cut off. Instantly the deed was 
done ; she cropped them short, and laid them in an anti-chamber 
he must pass through to enter her apartment. But, to her cruel 
disappointment, he passed, entered, and re-passed, calm enough 
to provoke a saint; neither angry, nor sorrowful; seemingly 
quite unconscious both of his crime and his punishment. Con- 
cluding he must have overlooked the hair, she ran to secure it. 
Lo ! it had vanished ; and she remained in perplexity the rest of 
the day. The next, as he continued silent, and her looking- 
glass spoke the change a rueful one, she began to think she had, 
for once, done a foolish thing. Nothing more ever transpired 
upon the subject till after the duke's death, when she found her 
beautiful ringlets carefully laid by in a cabinet, where he kept 



394 THE PALACE OF BLENHEIM, 

whatever he held most precious." What a gush of feeling must 
have assailed the widowed duchess ! 

Having given this instance of his sweetness as a husband, I 
must illustrate his patience as a master by recording, from one 
of his biographers, that, riding out one day at the Hague with 
Commissary Maniot, it began to rain. The duke called for his 
cloak; Maniot having had his put on by his servant in an in- 
stant. The duke's attendant not bringing the cloak, he called 
again ; but the man still continued puzzling about the straps and 
buckles. At last the rain increased very much, and the duke 
repeated his call, adding, What are you about, that you do not 
bring my cloak ? — " You must stay," grumbled the man, " if it 
rains cats and dogs, till I can get at it." The duke only turned 
to Maniot, and said, smiling, " I would not be of that man's 
temper for all the world." We have seen how he was affected 
by the horrors of war, that stern necessity compelled him to wit- 
ness, and which, to his praise, he did all in his power to mitigate. 
Amidst political parties he held on a consistent course, ever pre- 
serving clear views of what was due to the honour and safety of 
England. While the wickedness of the high-church section was 
placing the country in the most perilous ferment, through their 
wretched tool Sacheverel, the duke maintained his integrity, 
and, though a firm and conscientious churchman, scorned to 
lend himself to their vile arts. In short, he was the pride and 
glory of his country, and, as a French biographer observes of 
this great man, " he was more a sovereign in England than his 
royal mistress." I have considered it more within the province 
of the writers of Marlborough's life to detail particulars of all 
the honours heaped upon him ; and there is scarcely a child in 
the kingdom ignorant of the spacious palace erected for him by 
the nation, which has the name of Blenheim, where the cele- 
brated battle fought at that German town is represented in pic- 
tures and tapestry. Amidst all the acclamations of all England, 
the well-known poem of Addison has by some been thought to 
be a more lasting monument than the palace of Blenheim, and 
is accounted one of the most honourable recompenses bestowed 
on this hero of a hundred fields. 



LAST ILLNESS OF LOUIS. 395 



SECTION VII. 

Decline and Death of Louis XIV. — Picture of the sensation thereby created 
—Dissertation on his Character — On the Arts — Memoirs of several emi- 
nent Artists — Architecture, Gardening, &c. — Pascal, Moliere, Corneille, 
Racine, Bossuet, La Fontaine, Bourdaloue, Boileau, Fenelon, Fontenelle, 
St. Aulaire, Le Sage, Massillon, Rousseau — Wind-up of the War — End 
of the career of Philip V. — Madame de Maintenon — Bishop Burnet's 
Death, and last Words to Posterity — The celebrated French Historian, 
Rollin, and this Book closed with his beautiful " Conclusion." 

Louis XIV. lived a year or two after the treaties of Utrecht and 
Radstadt. During that time, he occupied himself, in some respects, 
in a manner, indicating good sense, although much active atten- 
tion could not be expected, after the long troubles he had under- 
gone, at the age of 75. The famous canal of Mardyke was one of 
his latest employments ; I have told my reader how the jealousy 
of England stopped that enterprise. Louis took pleasure in all 
military spectacles to the last ; and it formed a constant amuse- 
ment to him to drive about his own horses, a species of govern- 
ment in which he excelled. The unfortunate inflation of his 
character would not let him rest contented with this harmless 
exercise ; but, with singular want of taste and feeling, he tried 
to entertain the ragged and starving multitudes, whom his injus- 
tice and pride had reduced to that deplorable condition, with 
mock fights, on which immense sums of money were expended. 
As if the people had not been enough impoverished; and as if 
the humiliation the arms of France had undergone were not 
enough, to make them eschew any of the symbols of war, at 
least until time should have obliterated part of the misery and 
disgrace attendant on the doings of the first few years of the 
eighteenth century! Verily the French are an extraordinary 
people. 

In August, 1715, the king was taken with an illness that was 
mistaken for sciatica (hip-gout), but it was soon discovered to 
he a more formidable disease. He had boasted, during a long 
life, a hearty constitution; but how soon does wearing pain 
bring down the strongest of us ! In a short time he was greatly 
reduced, he could no more go out ; but he tried unremittingly 
to carry on his kingly business, and occasionally he had the 
gens-d'armerie brought before his window to be reviewed. 
During this fatal illness, and the certain termination of it he 



396 LOUIS' KINDNESS AND PLACIDITY. 

had sense enough neither to conceal from himself nor from 
those around him, he discoursed well with the Duke of Orleans 
upon the duties about to devolve upon him. Checking the too 
common irritation attendant on painful complaints, he exhibited 
carefully the utmost kindness to all who came near him. As the 
illness of Louis proceeded, his legs swelled, and a mortification 
began to show itself. If we often laugh, or condemn, many 
of the customs of the French, there are frequent occasions 
when the homely advice " Look at home," may be profitably 
remembered. 

We are told by Voltaire that the Earl of Stair (who set up 
for a very fine gentleman, by the bye), " according to the custom 
of his country, laid a wager that the king would not live out the 
month of September. The Duke of Orleans, who in his journey 
to Marli had been absolutely alone, was now surrounded by all 
the court. An empyric, in the last days of the king's illness, 
gave him an elixir that restored his strength; he ate, and the 
quack affirmed he could recover Louis. The crowd which had 
encircled the Duke of Orleans instantly disappeared. ' If the 
king eats a second time,' said the Duke of Orleans, ' we shall 
have nobody with us/ The disease however was mortal." Louis 
beheld the approach of death with great calmness. He observed 
to Madame de Maintenon that he thought it was more difficult 
to die than he found it. Observing some of the bystanders 
weeping, he reproved them, saying, " Why do you weep ? Did 
you believe me immortal ? I never thought it ; and at my age 
you should have made up your minds to part with me." He 
gave minute orders concerning many things, even regulating his 
funeral solemnity. Voltaire remarks on this, that " whoever has 
many witnesses of his death always dies with courage." And 
with what motive soever that unbelieving writer may have made 
the observation, it will be well for all of us to discriminate 
between the consolations to be derived from an enlivening sense 
of pardon and peace, and the kind of excitement and satisfac- 
tion created by the sympathizing attentions of those near and 
dear to us assembled for the last offiees of humanity in that 
solemn hour ! 

The Duke of St. Simon, who has given us many interesting 
particulars of the concluding scenes of the life of Louis, de- 
scribes him as dying penitent, and with an absence of that os- 
tentation which marked his whole life. As he lay in his bed, 
he caused his great-grandson to be fetched, and, holding him 
between his arms, he addressed him thus: "You are about to 
be king over a great kingdom : w T hat I most earnestly recom- 
mend to you is never to forget the obligations you have to 
God : remember that it is to Him you owe every thing. En- 
deavour to preserve peace with your neighbours ; I have been 



REFLECTIONS ON DEATH. 397 

too fond of war. Neither imitate me in that, nor in the too 
great expenses which I have incurred. Take advice in all 
things : endeavour to distinguish the best, and always to follow 
it. Relieve your people as soon as you can ; and do what I 
have had the misfortune not to be able to do." These memo- 
rable words his successor caused to be preserved in writing, and 
for many years they were preserved above the pillow of Louis XV. 
The dying king was often observed joining his hands in prayer, 
and striking his breast with evident remorse. Madame de 
Maintenon is said to have deserted him before he was dead ; it 
seems scarcely credible, and a passage, I shall presently trans- 
late from the Due de Noailles would almost appear to contra- 
dict this assertion. 

With very great delight I present my reader a paragraph 
from the able and eloquent Smyth, professor of modern history 
in the University of Cambridge : it is in a lecture on the French 
revolution delivered to the students there : " I could wish you 
to turn to this particular portion of the memoirs of St. Simon, 
not only because Louis is an example to show that, after an ill 
spent life, the bitter hour of self-reproach must come, and this, 
whatever be the deceitful nature of the human heart — and no 
man ever had one so deceitful as Louis, but because a youthful 
student can never be too strongly reminded of the transitory 
nature of every thing human ; however he may value, and 
justly value, the proper enjoyments of this sublunary state, he 
must never forget that the pleasures, whether rational or not, 
of his existence, and his existence itself, in this world at least, 
must pass away. He has seen Louis XIV. the idol and the 
master of the most brilliant court that Europe has ever wit- 
nessed; he has seen him surrounded by his mistresses, his 
ladies, and his courtiers, his statesmen and his generals, his 
artists and his bards, and he has now to see of all these things 
the awful and concluding lesson — 

" To what complexion they must come at last. 

" Louis is to undergo the same appalling change which is 
the law of our common nature — Louis is to die. The physi- 
cians are assembled, and they can afford no succour ; the gens- 
d'armerie are brought up, and at last they can no longer be 
reviewed, even from the window ; the musicians cannot now be 
listened to, ' charm they never so wisely ; ' the conversation of 
Madame de Maintenon and the ladies can interest no more : 
the king sits drowsy or asleep, and wakes confused ; the pulse 
fails, and he lies on his royal bed helpless and expiring, fallen 
from his high estate, and his kingdom departing from him. A 
greater monarch than he has at last appeared, to w T hose dart, as 
he prepares to strike, his own earthly sceptre, if opposed, would 

A A 



398 EFFECT ON THE PUBLIC 

be but a pigmy's straw ; and this terrific being now marshals 
him the way he is to go, the way to that vale and shadow, glim- 
mering on the confines of the present world and the future, 
which he is now to enter, and which stands for ever open to 
receive the fleeting generations of mankind. It must be ever 
thus, and the poet, while musing in the church-yard path, re- 
peats but the sentiment which might have been felt on the 
terraces of Versailles : 

" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave 
Await alike the inevitable hour ; 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

With the utmost calmness and tranquillity Louis XIV. ex- 
pired Sept. 1, 1715. The terrors of the scene naturally affected 
the infant king, now just five years old. The Duke of Orleans 
exhibited more proper feeling than could have been expected 
from his depraved character, and appeared to realize the great 
importance of the trust committed to him as regent of the king- 
dom. Voltaire thinks Louis was not regretted so much as he 
deserved ; and that the sentiments with which his death was 
received went farther than indifference. 

Sir E. L. Bulwer has a picture in his able work, " Devereux," 
that so interests by its graphic effect as to tempt me to quote a 
page or two : " While we were thus conversing, we approached 
Versailles. We thought the vicinity of the town seemed unu- 
sually deserted. We entered the main street — crowds were as- 
sembled — an universal murmur was heard — excitement sat on 
every countenance. Here an old crone was endeavouring to 
explain something, evidently beyond its comprehension, to a 
child of three years old ; who, with open mouth, and fixed eyes, 
seemed to make up in wonder for its want of intelligence. 
There, a group of old disbanded soldiers occupied the way, and 
seemed, from their muttered conversation, to vent a sneer and a 
jest at a priest, who, with downward countenance and melan- 
choly air, was hurrying along. One young fellow was calling 
out — ' At least, it is a holiday, and I shall go to Paris-' As a 
contrast to him, an old withered artisan, leaning on a gold- 
headed cane, with sharp avarice eloquent in every line of his 
face, muttered out to a fellow miser, ' No business to-day — no 
money, John — no money!' One knot of women, of all ages, 
close by which my horse passed, was entirely occupied with a 
single topic, and that so vehemently that I heard the leading 
words of the discussion. ' Mourning — becoming — what fash- 
ion? — how long? — ceil!' Thus do follies weave themselves 
round the bier of death ! ' What is the news, gentlemen ? ' said 
I. ' News — what, have you not heard it ? The king is dead ! ' 



DEATH. 399 

* Louis dead — Louis the Great, dead ! ' cried my companion. 

* Louis the Great ? ' said a sullen-looking man — ' Louis, the per- 
secutor V ■ Ah — he's a Huguenot ! ' cried another with haggard 
cheeks and hollow eyes, scowling at the last speaker. ! Never 
mind what he says ; the king was right when he refused protec- 
tion to the heretics; — but was he right when he levied such 
taxes on the catholics ? ' 

" ' Hush ! ' said a third — ' hush — it may be unsafe to speak ; 
there are spies about. For my part, I think it was all the fault 
of the noblesse.' ' And the favourites ! ' cried a soldier fiercely. 

* And the harlots ! ' cried a hag of 80. ' And the priests ! ' mut- 
tered the Huguenot, « And the tax-gatherers ! ' added the lean 
catholic. We rode slowly on. My comrade was evidently and 
powerfully affected. ' So, he is dead ! ' said he. ' Dead ! — 
well — well — peace be with him. He conquered in Holland — he 
humbled Genoa — he dictated to Spain — he commanded Conde 
and Turenne — he — Bah ! What is all this ? ' Then, turning 
abruptly to me, my companion cried, ' I did not speak against 
the king, did I, sir ? ' ' Not much,' I replied. ' I am glad of 
that/ said he ; ' yes, very glad ! ' And the old man glared 
fiercely round on a troop of boys, who were audibly abusing 
the dead lion. 

" * I would have bit out my tongue, rather than joined in 
the base joy of these yelping curs. Heavens ! when I think 
what shouts I have heard, when the name of that man, then 
deemed little less than a god, was but breathed ! ' — and now — 
why do you look at me, sir ? My eyes are moist — I know it, 
sir — I know it. The old battered, broken soldier, who made his 
first campaigns when that which is now dust was the idol of 
France, and the pupil of Turenne ; the old soldier's eyes shall 
not be dry, though there is not another tear shed in the whole 
of this great empire/ 'Your three sons?' said I, — 'you did 
not weep for them ? ' ' No, sir, — I loved them when I was 
old — but I loved Louis when 1 was young ! ' ' Your oppressed 
and pillaged country ! ' said I, ' think of that.' ' No, sir, I will 
not think of it ! ' cried the old warrior in a passion. ■ I will 
not think of it — to-day, at least/ ' You are right, my brave 
friend : in the grave let us bury even public wrongs ; but let us 
not bury their remembrance. May the joy we read in every 
face that we pass — joy at the death of one whom idolatry once 
almost seemed to deem immortal — be a lesson to future kings ! ' 

" My comrade did not immediately answer ; but, after a 
pause, and we had turned our backs upon the town, he said, 
' Joy, sir — you spoke of joy ! Yes, we are Frenchmen ; we for- 
give our rulers easily for private vices and petty faults ; but we 
never forgive them if they commit the greatest of faults, and 
suffer a. stain to rest upon' 'What?' I asked, as my 

A A 2 



400 OPINIONS ON LOUIS' 

comrade broke off. ' The national glory, Monsieur ! ' replied he. 
* You have hit it/ said I, smiling at the turgid sentiment which 
was so really and so deeply felt. ' And had you written folios 
upon the character of your countrymen, you could not have 
expressed it better/ " 

Yes, we read in Voltaire, and all writers on the period, that 
the love of novelty — the approach of a minority — caused Louis' 
death to be received favourably. The same people, who in 1686 
begged of heaven, with tears, the king's recovery, followed his 
funeral pomp with very different expressions. It is said that his 
mother, when he was very young, told him to copy after his 
grandfather, and not to be like his father. Louis having asked 
her the reason, " It is," said she, " because that, at the death of 
Henry IV., the people wept ; and laughed at that of Louis XIII." 
The Due de Noailles thus speaks of the death of Louis XIV. : 
" He died September 1, 1715, leaving the kingdom, immersed 
in debt, to an infant of five and a half years old, whose minority 
seemed alone wanting to put the finishing stroke to our disor- 
ders by the accession of fresh calamities. Although flattery has 
too much exalted him, he was entitled to the title of great by 
many sublime qualities, and by admirable institutions that are 
of more account than conquests ; and his reign will always be 
considered one of the most glorious epochs of the monarchy. 
Wise men win honour him, by the constancy with w r hich he bore 
the long train of misfortunes he passed through, and by the ar- 
dent desire he manifested to finish the calamities of his people. 
It is due to Louis, as well as to Madame de Maintenon, to men- 
tion the way in which he served her on his death -bed, by com- 
mitting her interests to the Duke of Orleans, ' Nephew, I recom- 
mend Madame de Maintenon to your care. You know the sen- 
timents of esteem I have entertained for her. She has always 
counselled me well ; it would have been better for me had I 
followed her advice. She has proved a blessing to me in every 
thing, but, above all, in matters regarding the salvation of my 
soul. Do whatsoever she requires at your hands — whether for 
her kindred, friends, or connections — she will not abuse your 
confidence. See her personally relative to all she wishes.' " 

The character of Louis XIV. has engaged great attention, 
and been represented much according to the bias of the writer 
descanting upon his deeds. He seems to have been humane, 
apart from the fearful infatuations of bigotry and of war. Kow 
just is the term infatuation, when, during the heats of such un- 
holy and destructive practices, the man who can doom whole 
villages, cities, or territories, to fire and sword, and imagine he 
is in the " stern path of duty," will, on the other hand, in cir- 
cumstances of peace, shrink from the effusion of blood ; often 
endeavour to save life forfeit to the laws ; and be occupied 



VERY OPPOSITE QUALITIES. 401 

either in neighbourly acts of kindness, or in public efforts for 
the good of his country ! Louis was a despot, it is true, but not 
a savage. I have at p. 203 shown that the execution of the Che- 
valier de Rohan was the only case of blood-shedding for high- 
treason during this long reign of nearly three-quarters of a cen- 
tury. Of what other government during that long space, either 
in times antecedent, contemporary, or subsequent, can so much 
be said ? It seems a very common notion that the generation 
who witness the career of any illustrious character are ill quali- 
fied to appreciate it ; and that a long period must elapse ere 
men's minds can be sufficiently free from party spirit to enable 
them to steer clear of disparagement or flattery. I cannot bow 
to this dogma ; nor can I see reason to hope for fresh lights to 
guide us to an unerring judgment on so contradictory a person 
as the royal " posture-master," whose life and history we have 
now gone through. Enough appears to exhibit him as a kind 
and gentle master ; not a disrespectful son, though an unwise 
one : a man of shrewdness, though often manifesting selfish 
perverseness. If he had a certain sort of kindliness of dispo- 
sition, little credit must be assigned him for this qualification, 
as his suavity seems to have resulted from seeing a facile dispo- 
sion was most productive of ease. The bane of royalty proved 
a net whose meshes precluded his escape : and if in the compara- 
tively innocent period of boyhood, when apparently dying, he 
could seriously set himself to examination as to where he was 
then likely to go, and manifest a certain tenderness of con- 
science, how lamentable that his goodness was, like that of most 
others, to be compared with the " early cloud and the morning 
dew, which soon passeth away!" The paths of sin, in "pride, 
vain-glory, and hypocrisy," were temptingly smoothed along the 
downward road; and we see in the occasional flashes of the 
light of natural conscience — as in the case of his remorse for 
his guilty connexion with Madame de Montespan, &c, — that 
Felix was not the only monarch who stifled his convictions by 
the too fatally common postponement of repentance to *' a more 
convenient season." 

The career of Louis XIV. exhibits him as endowed with 
the opposing qualities of steady application to business; a pur- 
suit of pleasure unchecked by reference to the rights, duties, 
and affections of others ; and an affectation of virtuous prin- 
ciples, which he seems to have had no other value for than that 
the sum-total of his glory and renown should be en^reased. 
Enough has in this work been recorded to show his heartless 
debauchery, his insatiate ambition, his tact in judging of the cha- 
racters likely to add to the splendour of his gaudy government 
or to benefit that country over which he reigned. It can admit 
of no dispute that himself was the end of all his movements 



402 INTERESTING Q.UOTATION FROM 

and we find that he never suffered any thing to exist "but what 
immediately emanated from the throne, or was visibly depend- 
ent on his pleasure." The happiness of his people, certainly, 
was not indifferent to him, but he must be the judge and prime 
mover, the guardian of their peace, and the guarantee of their 
security. So he gloried in having great men about his court 
and government ; but he must be their patron. He certainly 
picked the crown up out of the dirt, and knew how to beautify 
and keep it in repair. His education, originally contracted, 
even more than falls to the lot of most royal scions, perhaps, 
had a prejudicial influence on his selfish mind, that seems ever 
to have been unable to separate real grandeur from meretri- 
cious gilding. 

In a work on the French revolution, ably written by Dr. 
Moore, perhaps more than most writers qualified to judge, 
occurs the following passage. It may not be amiss here to state 
who this Dr. Moore was — as the name is so common, and this 
short sketch will show why he was specially able to form an 
unimpeachable judgement. John Moore was born at Stirling 
1730, and educated at Glasgow, where he studied medicine. 
He went, in 1747, to Flanders with the English army, as sur- 
geon's mate, and after the peace he came to London, to improve 
himself in medical knowledge. He afterwards passed to Paris, 
where the English ambassador, Lord Albemarle, engaged him 
as surgeon to his household. In 1773 he travelled about as 
tutor to the young Duke of Hamilton and his brother. On his 
return to London, he published, in 1779, his View of Society 
and Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany; this was 
received with universal approbation, and encouraged him to 
issue his Views of Society and Manners in Italy. His Medical 
Sketches possessed merit, but are said to have offended his 
brethren, because they betrayed some of the secrets of their 
profession. In 1792, Dr. Moore accompanied Lord Lauderdale 
to Paris, and was an eye-witness to some of the atrocious scenes 
which so much disgraced the French revolution. He died in 
London in 1802, highly respected as a man of letters, and of 
general information. 

He had two sons — Graham, a gallant officer in the navy ; 
and the illustrious Sir John Moore, who fell at Corunna. Well, 
Dr. Moore observes that M the sudden recovery from the dis- 
astrous condition to which France was reduced, at the two 
epochs above mentioned (the war of the League, and the excite- 
ment of the Fronde), was partly owing to the talents of the two 
princes who reigned immediately after them. The first, being 
blessed with benevolence and genius, had at once the inclina- 
tion to raise his country from the calamitous state in which she 
was, and the power to execute it ; he was in reality a great king. 



MOORE ON THE REVOLUTION. 403 

The second, Louis XIV., has been called the best actor of a 
great king that ever lived. 

" The fine person, dignified deportment, and imposing man- 
ners of Louis XIV., commanded the admiration, and even the 
awe, of his generals, ministers, and courtiers ; and towards the 
end of his reign, when he was at once assailed by domestic and 
public misfortunes, the attachment of his subjects seemed to 
make them feel the sorrows of their king as their own, and sub- 
mit with alacrity to heavier exactions than were ever wrung by 
tyranny from man. Mankind are governed by force and by 
opinion. Louis made use of both these agents in a supreme 
degree. Besides the immense army which he kept up in peace 
as well as war, he also kept in action all those springs which 
have been found friendly to the maintenance of implicit obe- 
dience in the subject, and arbitrary power in the monarch. By 
various means he kept his nobility entirely dependent on his 
favour. Jealous of allowing the princes of the blood occasions 
of acquiring military fame, he seldom gave them the command 
of armies, and never for a long time. 

" He commanded in person only when conquest was secure ; 
and, without being exposed to hardship or danger, he claimed 
the merit of having reduced every fortress, which was either 
bought by his money, or subdued by the skill of his engineers. 
Even in his cabinet at Versailles he affected to direct the ope- 
rations of his generals in the field, and vainly expected that, 
their victories being imputed to his military skill, the greater 
share of the glory would remain with himself. He was taught 
that he had a right to controul the consciences, and seize the 
money, of his subjects ; and, as he was at once superstitious and 
haughty, he revived the spirit of persecution, partly from zeal 
for the religion which he himself professed, and partly to pu- 
nish the arrogance of those who dared to entertain opinions 
different from his. 

" Compensating the difference in quantity by that of quality, 
he seems to have thought himself and family, including his ille- 
gitimate children, of more value than all his subjects together. 
Other monarchs have rated themselves and subjects in the same 
manner; but Louis XIV. is, perhaps, the only king who ever 
brought his subjects to the same way of thinking. He and his 
glory occupied their thoughts more than their own welfare, or 
that of their country. Those endearing ideas which are con- 
nected with the expression ' our country' roused his jealousy ; at 
least, pains were taken, in his time, to root them out of their 
native soil, and transplant them around the word \ king* : the 
expression la patrie fell out of use during his reign, and conti- 
nued so for a long time afterwards — le roi supplied its place. 
That men should reverence the chief magistrate of a constitu- 



404 LOVE OF COUNTRY. 

tion, where power is limited and prerogative ascertained, is 
highly rational and becoming ; that subjects should admire a 
great king, and love a benevolent one, is natural and just. The 
heart owns, and the understanding approves, those sentiments. 
There is nothing in them, however, to fire the imagination, or 
greatly to captivate the affections. 

" But the expression, native country, presents itself to the 
mind, decorated with many ideas from the wardrobe of imagi- 
nation. To tell men they have disgraced their country is the 
most bitter of all reproaches ; to say that they have done it 
honour is the most soothing of all praises The officer on the 
day of battle is sensible of this ; and that he may inspire those 
under his command with additional courage, and rouse them to 
the utmost efforts, he reminds them that they are fighting for 
their country ! That simple sentence contains all the magic of 
eloquence. Conjuring up the ideas of protecting our property, 
our homes, the abodes of our forefathers, the beloved scenes of 
our earliest pleasures and first affections, it implies defending 
from outrage our constitution, our religion, all that is valuable 
and endearing, our friends, parents, wives, and children. The 
love of our country is mentioned with the love of fame by the 
Roman poet, as the feeling of a noble mind : — 

" Vincit amor patriae, laudumque immensa cupido. 

" It not only excites to virtuous exertions during life, but a 
soothing recollection of death : — 



-dulces moriens reminiscitur argos, 



" The Romans, fond of fighting as they were, would not 
have unsheathed a sword for the greatest man their country ever 
produced, if he had insinuated that they were to fight for his glory 
and not for their country. But the French, in Louis XlVth's 
time, seem to have thought of nothing but the monarch. 
When a battle was lost, their greatest concern was the affliction 
it would occasion to him; they rejoiced in victory because it 
would afford him pleasure and increase his glory. The great 
empire of France, and ' all which it inherit,' seemed to have 
been concentred in the person of the Grand Monarque, as if 
there had been a general conviction of the absurd doctrine 
that the people were made for the king, and not the king for 
the people ; which has a bad effect on the minds of both, ren- 
dering the one more proud, and the other more servile. 

" This was the case in France during the reign of this arro- 
gant monarch, whose affected grandeur imposed on. the whole 
nation ; and who, whether he was a hero in the eyes of his valet- 
de-chambre or not, certainly was admired as a great monarch 
even by the truly great men of his own time. His generals 



louis' smart sayings. 405 

talked of the honour of shedding their blood for his glory. The 
proudest of his nobility solicited offices, some of them almost 
menial, near his person ; and the great Conde himself dwindled 
into a mere courtier, to satisfy the vanity of the inflated mo- 
narch. Considerations of policy and selfishness intermingled, 
in these instances, with that wonderment with which the nation 
at that time looked up to their monarch ; the generals probably 
thought a little of commands and regiments, the courtiers of 
places and pensions, and the prince of mitigating the jealousy 
which, he well knew, Louis bore him. It is impossible to ima- 
gine that they had any affectionate attachment to his person. 

" How could a reserved, yet ostentatious, tyrant, who conti- 
nually sacrificed the feelings of all around him to his own ca- 
price and conveniency, excite affectionate attachment ? A king 
of such a character as Henry IV. would certainly carry men a 
great length in the most cordial loyalty ; but let those who wish 
to embody patriotism, and many of the sentiments which beau- 
tify and harmonise society, with whoever inherits the office of 
king, recollect the characters of all Henry's successors, except 
the last. Let them also reflect that, if Louis XV. had died be- 
fore his marriage, then all the loyalty of the French nation, with 
all the duty and affection which belong to it, and that ardour to 
shed their blood for their king's glory, which the French of those 
days were so fond of professing, would have been the lawful 
inheritance of Philip Egalite ! " 

It is my desire fairly to exhibit the character of Louis XIV., 
I therefore trust my reader will not find fault with my present- 
ing to him various opinions of that character, as the best means 
I can adopt to enable him to form a satisfactory estimate of the 
monarch whose career has so long occupied our attention. 

Voltaire says that " time, which stamps the opinions of men, 
has stamped its seal upon his reputation; and, notwithstanding 
all that has been written against him, his name will never be 
pronounced without respect, nor without reviving the idea of an 
age for ever memorable. Some answers and sayings of this 
prince have been collected, which amount to little. It was said 
that when he had resolved to abolish Calvinism in France, he 
said, * My grandfather loved the Huguenots, and did not fear 
them ; my father feared, but did not love them ; as for me, I 
neither love, nor fear them.' He always expressed himself 
nobly, and with great exactness, studying to speak, as well as to 
act, in public, like a sovereign. When the Duke of Anjou went 
to reign in Spain, the king, to express the union which was from 
that time to join the two nations, said to him, ' Remember, there 
are now no Pyrenees.' Louis XIV. had more dignity and exact- 
ness than sprightliness in his genius. A king should, indeed, do, 
rather than say, memorable things. Whoever is in an exalted 



406 LOUIS SUBMITS TO 

station should suffer no person to leave his presence discontent- 
ed, and should make himself agreeable to all those who approach 
him. It is not possible to confer favours every moment ; but 
'tis always easy to say things which please : this Louis had hap- 
pily made habitual to him. Between him and his court there 
was a constant interchange of all the graciousness that his ma- 
jesty could show without being degraded ; and all the arts which 
eagerness to serve, and solicitude to please, could produce, with- 
out abasement. 

" With the women, particularly, he had a delicacy and polite- 
ness which still more increased that of his courtiers ; and with 
the men he never lost an opportunity of saying those things that 
flatter self-love, excite emulation, and make a deep impression. 
The Duchess of Burgundy, when she was very young, seeing an 
officer at supper who was extremely ugly, was very loud in her 
ridicule of his person. ' Madam/ said the king to her, still 
louder, ' I think him one of the handsomest men in my king- 
dom; for he is one of the bravest.' A general officer, an abrupt 
sort of a man, who had not softened his temper, even in the 
court of Louis XIV., had lost an arm in an action, and com- 
plained to the king, who had, however, recompensed him as 
much as the loss of an arm can be recompensed. I wish, said 
he, that I had lost the other, that I might serve your majesty no 
more. ' I should then be sorry/ said Louis, ' both for you and 
myself.' These words were followed by the grant of a favour." 

He appears to have perpetrated several jeu (Tesprits which 
were not destitute of merit, at least showing that intellectual 
amusements were not banished from his court. If he loved 
praise, its grossness sometimes disgusted even Louis XIV. 
Despreaux, a poet, once rather impudently said, on hearing 
some remarks of the king, ' Tell his majesty I am a better 
judge of poetry than he is.' Louis mildly replied, ■ He is in 
the right of it, he is a better judge than I.' A cynical follower 
of the Duke of Vendome, named Villiers, freely condemned 
Louis' taste in every thing — music, painting, architecture, gar- 
dening. The king met him one day in the gardens, and showed 
him one of his new plans, which he condescended to observe 
he feared had not the happiness to secure his approbation. 
No, answered Villiers. However, said Louis, there are many 
persons who are not so much displeased with it. That may be, 
replied Villiers, every one has his own way of thinking. The 
king smiled, and said, " It is impossible to please every body." 

x\fter his marriage with Mde. de Maintenon, the king led a 
much more retired life, and a serious illness contributed to es- 
trange him from that taste for feasts and gallantry by which 
almost every year had been distinguished. He was seized with 
a fistula, and this distressing disease was not then under the 



A TAINFUL OPERATION. 407 

controul of a simple and safe operation. Richelieu had died 
from unskilful treatment under a similar ease. The king's dan- 
ger alarmed all France ; the churches were filled with innume- 
rable crowds, with tears in their eyes, imploring his cure from 
heaven. The chief surgeon, Felix, went through all the hospi- 
tals, to seek for patients in the same distemper: he consulted 
the best surgeons, and secured their assistance in constructing 
instruments for shortening the operation. When he had gained 
sufficient confidence, Felix informed Louis that he was ready, 
and the day was fixed for the operation. Madame de Mainte- 
non, Louvois, the confessor Pere la Chaise, and the medical 
attendants, only knew of it. The operation was long, therefore 
painful ; the king endured it without complaining, and, when it 
was over, sent to inform his family. On the very day he made 
the ministers transact their business in his bed-room, which he 
continued throughout his confinement ; and received the foreign 
ambassadors the next day. Felix, under an appreciation of the 
great responsibility devolved upon him, manifested much more 
concern and trepidation than the royal sufferer. After he had 
successfully concluded, the hands of this eminent surgeon were 
seized with a tremulousness, from which he never entirely reco- 
vered. Louis presented him with an estate, at that time valued 
at more than 50,000 crowns. 

He underwent several minor operations connected with this 
sad complaint, which he bore with patience, and always showed 
a power of self-command, that one of his ablest biographers 
classes with the greatest acts of the most famous men of anti- 
quity. Without going quite so far, I can but admire his con- 
stancy, and am no mean judge, as it has fallen to my own lot to 
undergo a similar trial, followed by a three months' confinement 
and repeated incisions and excisions. Louis was quite restored 
within one month. Having myself shrunk from the operator's 
knife, without laying a particle of claim to the firmness of the 
royal sufferer, I venture to present a short passage from Mr. 
James, that gives the meed due to that firmness : "A historian 
has declared with truth that Augustus Caesar died an actor, but 
probably had he examined as strictly the lives of patriots and 
philosophers, he would have found in their most famous sayings, 
and their most celebrated acts, fully as much of the player as in 
the nunc plaudite of the emperor. It is something, if, in the 
human mind, especially a mind enured to luxury and enjoyment, 
there can be found a power of any kind strong enough to con- 
quer bodily suffering, and to meet events, awful in themselves, 
with firmness and dignity." In the history of Job, how power- 
fully does Satan put the case : " But put forth thine hand now, 
and touch his bone and his fleshy and he will curse thee to thy 
face ! " And the most pathetic and poetical bewailing on record 



408 LOUIS SHOCKED AT CRUELTY. 

testifies to the all-conquering nature of bodily suffering, which 
could cause the personification of patience to " long for death, 
but it cometh not ; and to desire to be where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and where the weary are at rest." 

Louis' conduct to the unfortunate sufferer in the iron-mask 
I have already exposed and condemned. He did not abrogate 
the use of torture — indeed prison-discipline seems in those days 
to have attracted little or no attention. He doubtless pursued 
the Count of Lauzun with a shameful extent of punishment, 
altogether disproportionate to the offence. But he does not 
seem at home iti such acts, nor did he cause justice to be per- 
verted for the gratification of his passing caprices. The glaring, 
damning, spot in his reign was his conduct in connection with 
the persecution of the protestants ; but as I have so largely en- 
tered into that deplorable affair in an earlier portion of this 
work, and in no way spared the royal bigot, it is the less neces- 
sary here to repeat my horror and disgust at his shameful and 
cruel conduct, under the influence of his confessor and other 
B,oman priests. Personally, he appears to have been of a forgiv- 
ing disposition, of a mild and placable nature. One trait to his 
praise I have recorded at p. 148, when he encountered the risk 
of contagious disease. In fact, he never avoided the execution 
of those duties that he deemed fitting in such cases, when from 
similar scenes most around him fled, among whom the foremost 
was Madame de Maintenon. At the death of the Dauphiness 
Louis was present ; leading his son away from the sad spectacle, 
he addressed him thus : " You see what becomes of the great- 
ness of this world. Lo ! that which you and I have to expect. 
God grant us grace to end our days as nobly." Indeed through- 
out the many severe trials to which by family bereavements and 
other afflictions he was called in his latter years, he carried him- 
self with firmness, and, while evidently a deep sufferer, made no 
display of his grief. In short, there were many occasions on 
which Louis exhibited the kindness of a parent and a friend, 
while he at the same time preserved the dignity of a king. 

His disgraceful licentiousness, and encouragement of those 
propensities in others, leave a stain of degradation upon his 
character, though too common as applied to royal sinners, which 
the mind sickens in contemplating. The awful cruelties in the 
Palatinate must for ever blast his name ; nor does his reputa- 
tion get any relief from the dishonourable attempt to load the 
shoulders of the execrable Louvois with the enormity. Once 
Louvois, determined to secure his consent to the burning of 
Treves, told the king he had taken that responsibility on him- 
self, and had sent off a courier with an order to destroy tha. 
city. The king burst out into a passion, to which he was not 
subject, started up, seized the tongs from the fire-place, and 



AND YET A TYRANT. 409 

would therewith have knocked down the offender, but Madame 
de Maintenon got between them, and Louvois made a hasty re- 
treat. However, he had time to hear the king shout out, " Send 
off another courier instantly : if he arrive not in time, and they 
burn a single house, your head shall answer for it." 

Louis XIV. greatly contributed to the civilization and re- 
finement of France ; he was friendly to order, tranquillity, and 
the regular administration of justice ; and, one of the best of 
his biographers remarks that " this is the most favourable 
point of view in which Louis can be surveyed. He had at the 
same time undoubtedly the very important merit of choosing 
able men for the various departments of the state. And this is 
not only at all times the best criterion of the merit of every 
prince, but it is more so of Louis, from whose ignorance, vanity, 
pride, and impetuosity, no conduct so rational could have been 
expected." One of his panegyrists says, " Turenne, Conde, 
Luxembourg, were his generals ; Colbert, Louvois, Torci, were 
his statesmen ; Vauban, his engineer ; Perault constructed his 
palaces ; they were adorned by Le Poussin and Le Brun ; Le 
Notre laid out his gardens ; Corneille and Racine wrote his tra- 
gedies ; Moliere, his comedies ; Boileau was his poet ; Bossuet, 
Bourdaloue, Massillon, were his preachers. It is in this august 
assemblage of men, whose fame can never die, that this mo- 
narch, whom they acknowledged as their patron and protector, 
presents himself to the admiration of posterity." 

Upon this passage, Mr. Smyth observes, " There is certainly 
something here to arrest us in the career of our censure. We 
see at length a disciplined army, public order, authority every 
where vigilant and resistless; regular government duly admi- 
nistered through all its departments ; habits of obedience and 
loyalty deeply engrafted and thoroughly introduced into the 
national character. To these the solid bases of this system, 
and of every system of government, must be added the more or- 
namental part, the paintings, the statues, the splendid vases, the 
libraries, all the rich and massy furniture, with which the great 
national edifice, the work of Louis XIV., was adorned. And 
we thus see presented to us that magnificent whole that so 
strongly impressed, that so entirely fascinated and overpowered 
not only the French people, but the people of all the kingdoms 
of Europe; and, if no more remained to be told, the admiration 
of posterity might not only be demanded for Louis, but be 
allowed. There is, however, much more to be told, and we 
must not, like the French people at the time, be insensible to 
the serious faults which so obscured the merits of their Grand 
Monarque. ***** Louis was long the terror of the 
civilized world; he was long considered as the tyrant that 
menaced the liberties of Holland, and every kingdom that he 



410 LOUIS' INCONGRUITY. 

could overpower ; as the monarch who had entertained thoughts 
even of universal empire. But what was to be the result ? At 
home, a system of taxation was to be urged on to the most op- 
pressive expedients ; peasants were to be hunted down and 
seized, to be forcibly enlisted in the armies : abroad, Holland, 
England, Europe, were to be attacked or insulted. A succession 
of battles was to be fought, attended with the most frightful 
carnage ; that is, the industrious were to be impoverished, the 
tender were to mourn, and the brave were to die, because Louis 
was to be called great, because Louis had chosen to be enrolled 
among the conquerors of the earth! It is surely difficult to 
love — it is surely strange to admire — a monarch like this. Of 
the last 48 years of his reign, 29 were years of war ; more than 
1,000,000 of men were sacrificed; the state was so reduced that 
the very servants of the king, covered with his liveries, asked 
alms at the doors of his palace of Versailles ! * * * United, 
the leading measures of his reign form a most dreadful indict- 
ment against him ; and it is impossible to distinguish such a 
monarch from any other of those mistaken and guilty mortals 
who have so misused their power as to deserve every mark of 
disgust and reprobation which can be inflicted upon them by 
the historian and by the thinking part of mankind." * * * 

In speaking of his death-bed repentance, and the good and 
affecting advice Louis gave to his infant successor, this eloquent 
writer goes on, " But how strong must have been the reasons 
for repentance before they could have reached the infatuated 
mind of a monarch like Louis ! In recapitulation — there is 
little in Louis to be loved, and not much that can properly be 
admired. He violated his most acknowledged duties ; he was an 
adulterer, and even openly so. In the same carriage with him, 
and in presence of his armies, were seen his two mistresses and 
his queen. He found in Madame la Valliere one whom he not 
only loved, but one who would have thought herself but too 
happy to have been loved by him ; too happy, as he well knew, 
if she had been the object of his affection and choice in a pri- 
vate station, and had shared with him, and for his sake endured, 
the obscurity of a cottage, or the privations of the most labori- 
ous life ; yet, this mistress, his mistress in spite of all her sense 
of right and honourable feelings, this unfortunate lady, he saw 
consign herself to a living death in a cloister, only because he 
had abandoned her for another. What next ensued ? The 
second object of his attachment he abandoned for a third; an 
adulterer to his queen while she lived, and at last, by his con- 
nection with Madame de Maintenon, subsiding into an anoma- 
lous and mixed situation of right and wrong, licentiousness and 
duty. Too proud to be supposed a husband, too devout (as he 
imagined) to be a keeper ; and at last, only taught to know him- 



HIS PATRONAGE OF ART. 411 

self by the defeats of his generals, and the overwhelming ca- 
lamities that he had brought upon his people. What is there 
here to be loved? What is there in the man, as a husband, a 
father, or a master, to interest our affections ? What is there 
that we would wish to be found in the character of our chil- 
dren, our friends, or ourselves ? As a king, what are his praises ? 
The reducing of his kingdom to order and civilization by the 
authority of his government; the selection of men of ability for 
his ministers ; the protection of the fine arts ; important merits 
these, no doubt ; hut these are ally 

This very charming writer, on the question of the arts flou- 
rishing equally under despotism or a free government, says, 
" literature and the arts can flourish while they disturb not the 
arbitrary maxims, civil and religious, that are adopted by the 
government under which they appear, but no longer. This 
measured license, however, this contracted indulgence, can never 
be favourable to the genius of the human mind, which kindles 
by mutual sympathy in every direction, and which can in this 
manner, and in this manner only, reach its full and natural 
perfection. 

" It is not considered how capricious and unjust may be the 
arbitrary monarch, even while he professes himself to be the pa- 
tron of literature and the arts. Virgil could find a patron in 
Augustus, but Ovid experienced only a persecutor and a tyrant. 
The same despot who could give a donation to the Mantuan 
bard, for the compliment to Marcellus, could tear away the au- 
thor of the Metamorphoses from the splendours of Rome, and 
the delights of polished society, and cast him out upon the snows 
of Thrace amid the barbarians that surrounded the Euxine ; his 
complaints, the tender and elegant Tristia, that were written 
from the desolate wastes of these inhospitable regions, have 
never ceased to move every reader of sensibility and taste, but 
they could produce no impression on the master of an arbitrary 
government ; and the hapless poet, sickening under the sensa- 
tions of hope deferred, at last despaired, and confessed that his 
genius had been his ruin. 

" Ingenio perii Naso pceta meo. 

" Virgil, however, and Ovid might both have sung in courts, 
and capitals, where Tacitus could not have thought ; and the 
pages of this philosophic historian will now for ever attest the 
connection that subsists between the genius and the freedom of 
the human mind. The same great truth was again felt, even 
under all the patronage of a court, by Longinus. In every age 
and succeeding period of the world the conclusion is the same. 
Raphael and Michael Angelo might have adorned palaces and 
temples with all the forms of sublimity and beauty, in cities 



412 DEGRADATION OF FLATTERY. 

where Galileo could not have unveiled the science of the heavens, 
nor Luther laid open the book of Life. Under Louis XIV., in 
like manner (the celebrated patron of every muse), Boileau, 
and Poussin, and Bossuet, and other illustrious men, divines, 
and artists, and poets, could find emoluments and distinctions ; 
but Fenelon had to be removed to a distance, and to disguise 
the effusions of his patriotism and wisdom. In our own coun- 
try, in like manner, the immortal Locke, under James II., was 
a student persecuted and silent ; the world received no benefit 
from the labours of his thoughts. 

" But the lapse of a few years, and the renewal of a free form 
of government, saw him cherished and admired ; saw him give 
to mankind his Treatise on Government, his Reasonableness of 
Christianity, his Essay on Toleration, his Essay on the Human 
Mind, and contribute more, perhaps, than any individual who 
can be mentioned, to the best interests of his fellow creatures, 
by contributing to remove obscurity from the mind, servility 
from the heart, and dogmatism from the understanding. I need 
not continue this subject further. The arts that adorn, and the 
literature that charms, the polished leisure of society, may flou- 
rish under a Louis, as they did under an Augustus, but not so 
the higher pursuits of the human understanding. It is freedom^ 
alone which can conduct the genius of mankind to that sublime 
perception of truth to which the Almighty Master sometimes 
admits — as in his wisdom he sees best — the aspiring, though 
bounded, faculties of his creatures." 

To my reader I make no apology for this long extract from 
one of the most right-thinking and beautiful writers of the day. 
I feel satisfied, from the high tone of liberality that pervades 
his book, I need make none to the gifted author of the lectures 
on the French Revolution, for enriching my pages with the few 
interesting paragraphs quoted, so powerful and so suitable to 
my purpose. 

By way of showing how degrading is flattery to both offerer 
and receiver, I give the following from the pen of an otherwise 
superior character. It occurs in a letter from Rome, dated 
Aug. 30, 1698, from the Princess des Ursins to Marshal Noailles; 
she is complaining of Cardinal Bouillon, and says, "he has 
rarely been near me without having met one or other of the 
cardinals, or some other distinguished prelate. I always have 
pleasure in contriving to tarn the conversation on the wondrous 
compound of qualities to be found in the king (Louis XIV.) ; 
but Bouillon cautiously evades the subject; and I never but 
once heard him praise her majesty, and then the most that he 
said was that she played well on the guitar." 

In another part of this work I have had occasion to expose 
the air of conceit of the publication culled the Saturday Maga- 



PERSONAL HABITS OF LOUIS. 413 

zine. I now acknowledge my obligations to its far abler fore- 
runner, the Penny Magazine, for the following sketch of " a Day 
of Louis XIV." which I have but slightly condensed from an 
account given by that interesting periodical as a collation from 
the memoir-writers of the period. I certainly adopt it without 
permission, and I hope without offence. 

Under the absolute government of Louis XIV. the nobility 
were drawn from their chateaux to court, employed about the 
person of the monarch, and rendered dependent on his favour. 
They soon lost their former spirit of independence, and, becom- 
ing corrupted by pensions and court favours, sank into a state 
of effeminacy from which they never rose. Their vices, follies, 
and weaknesses hastened the Revolution, and at the same time 
disabled them from taking any useful part in that great move- 
ment, under which they were ruthlessly crushed. 

The following account of a day at the court of Louis XIV. 
presents a humiliating picture of the French nobility at that time, 
when the highest object of their ambition was the favour of the 
sovereign, to obtain which they eagerly aspired to perform 
menial services about his person : — 

About eight o'clock in the morning, while a servant prepared 
the fire in the king's apartment, and Louis still slept, the pages 
of the chamber gently opened the windows, and removed the 
collation which had been left in case of the king requiring re- 
freshment in the night. Bontemps, the first valet, who had 
slept in the same room, and had dressed himself in the ante- 
chamber, re-entered, and waited, silent and alone, until the clock 
struck the hour at which the king had desired to be awakened. 
He then approached the king's bed, saying, " Sire, the clock has 
struck," and went directly into the ante-chamber to announce 
that his majesty was awake. The folding-doors were then 
thrown open, and the Dauphin and his children, Monsieur and 
the Duke de Chartres, were in waiting to wish him " good morn- 
ing." The Duke du Maine, the Count de Toulouse, the Duke 
de Beauvillers, first gentleman of the chamber, the Duke de la 
Rouchefoucauld, grand-master of the wardrobe, entered, fol- 
lowed by the first valet of the wardrobe and other officers bring- 
ing in the king's dresses. The principal physician and surgeon 
were also admitted. Bontemps, then handing a silver-gilt ves- 
sel, poured on the king's hands some spirit of wine ; the Duke 
de Beauvillers presented the holy water, and his majesty made 
the sign of the cross, while the Dauphin and the Duke, du Maine, , 
approaching the king's bed, asked him how he had slept ; after 
he had recited a very short religious service, M. de St. Quentin 
laid before him several peruques, and the king pointed out the 
one he intended to wear. As soon as he rose from his bed, the 
Duke de Beauvillers handed him a rich morning-gown, and 



414 SYCOPHANCY OF COURTIERS. 

Quentin presented the peruque, which the king put on himself. 
Bontemps next drew on his majesty's stockings, and, on being 
dressed, the holy water was again offered to him. He now went 
from the balustrade within which the bed was placed, and, seat- 
ing himself in an arm-chair near the fire-place, demanded " la 
premiere entree," which the Duke de Beauvillers repeated in a 
loud voice, on which a page of the chamber admitted those who. 
by right of their office or the king's favour, were entitled to be 
present at the " petit lever." 

The Marshal Duke de Villeroi, the Count de Grammont, 
the Marquis de Dangeau, M. de Beringhen, the four secretaries, 
Colin and Baurepas, readers of the chamber, Vergins, the Count 
de Crecy, secretary of the cabinet, and the Baron de Breteuil, with 
several keepers of the wardrobe not on service, and the keepers 
of the gold and silver plate, were introduced. His majesty then 
underwent the operation of shaving, the basin being held by 
Charles de Guisgne, Quentin adjusting the shaving- cloth, and 
applying the soap-brush and razor, and afterwards a soft sponge 
dipped in spirit of wine, and subsequently in pure water. The 
king wiped his face with a dry napkin, Bontemps holding a 
looking-glass during the whole of these operations. When 
these were finished, Caillebat, Marquis de la Salle, and Letel- 
lier, Marquis de Louvre, master of the wardrobe, prepared to 
attend the king while he dressed, previous to which he demanded 
the " grande entrees," the admission to which was regarded as 
one of the highest court favours. On each individual present- 
ing himself in the ante-room, the Sieur de Rasse, one of the 
ushers of the chamber, approached the Duke de Beauvillers, 
and announced his name in a low tone, the duke repeating it to 
the king, when, if his majesty did not make any objection, the 
introduction took place. Nobles of the highest rank, marshals, 
bishops, governors of provinces, and presidents of the parlia- 
ment, now entered in succession. At length, a gentle knock is 
heard at the door, and Beauvillers is ready to receive from the 
groom of the chamber the name of the new comer, and to an- 
nounce it to the king; but the door is opened without cere- 
mony, although it was neither a great churchman nor soldier ; it 
was Racine : and soon afterwards Boileau, Moliere, and Mansard, 
the architect, are introduced with as little form. 

The king, however, is now engaged in dressing, and the 
courtiers have the gratification of witnessing this ceremony. 
The page of the wardrobe hands to Gabriel Bachelier his ma- 
jesty's stockings and garters, who presents them to the king, 
and Louis puts on the former himself. Another officer hands 
his " haute-de-chausse," to which silk stockings are attached, 
and a third puts on the king's shoes. Two pages, splendidly 
dressed, remove the habiliments which the jcing throws off, and 






RECEPTION OF AMBASSADORS. 415 

his majesty buckles the garters himself. Breakfast is now ready, 
and Louis commands Racine to seat himself at the table. Two 
officers of the goblet bring in the breakfast service. The chief 
butler presents to the Duke de Beauviliers a silver-gilt cup, in 
which the duke pours out wine and water from two decanters, 
borne by another officer, tastes the beverage, and, after the cup 
has been rinsed, he presents it to the king, who drinks. The 
Dauphin then gives his hat and gloves to the first gentleman of 
the chamber, takes a napkin, handed to him by another officer, 
and presents it to the king, who wipes his lips. 

After breakfast is finished, Louis takes off his morning gown, 
and the Marquis de la Salle assists the king in taking off his 
night- vest by the left hand, while Bontemps is similarly em- 
ployed on the right. The latter receives from the king his 
purse, and hands it to Francois de Belloc, who places it in a 
cabinet, and remains in charge of it. Bachelier brings a shirt, 
which he has aired, and presents it to the Duke de Beauviliers, 
and the Dauphin, again laying aside his hat and gloves, hands 
it to the king. Two officers extend before the king his " robe 
de chambre," and Bachelier receives the garment which the king 
has taken off. The Marquis de la Salle assists the king to pull 
on his long stockings, and the Duke de la Rochefoucauld helps 
him on with his under-waistcoat. Two valets of the wardrobe 
then present the king with his waistcoat, sword, and the blue 
ribbon with the crosses of the Holy Ghost and St. Louis. The 
Duke de la Rochefoucauld buckles on the sword, and the Marquis 
de la Salle assists his majesty to put on his coat, and next pre- 
sents him with a rich lace cravat, which the king ties on himself. 
The Marquis next empties the pockets of the dress which had. 
been worn by the king on the previous day, and which is held 
by Bachelier, and receives from the Sieur de Saint-Michel two 
handkerchiefs presented to him on a waiter. The king then 
kneels in the space between the bed and the wall, and repeats a 
prayer, all the cardinals and bishops approaching and joining 
in a low tone. 

His majesty was now ready to receive such of the foreign 
ambassadors as had occasion to wait upon him ; and the ambas- 
sador of Spain was introduced to him by appointment, previous 
to which a coverlet was thrown on the bed, and the curtain 
drawn in front and at the feet. The king took his seat within 
the balustrade, the Dukes de Beauviliers and de la Rochefou- 
cauld and the Marquis de la Salle standing near him, and the 
princes of the blood being seated by his side. The ambassador 
is introduced, and makes three obeisances, upon which the king 
rises, and, taking off his hat, salutes the ambassador, after 
which, putting on his hat, he resumes his seat. The ambassador, 
who had by this time commenced his address, put on his hat, on 



416 HIS MAJESTY AT DINNER. 

which the princes did the same. At the conclusion of the inter- 
view,!^ retires, bowing three times. A lieutenant-general of 
one of the provinces is next introduced, for the purpose of tak- 
ing the oaths of office, during which he kneels and places his 
hands within those of the king, having previously given his 
sword, hat, and gloves to an officer of the chamber. When the 
king was indisposed, or took medicine, the honour of being 
present at the " grand entree" was one of the highest aspirations 
of the courtiers, the mode of reception being less formal. 

The " grand entree" was terminated by the king exclaiming, 
in a loud voice, "To the council!" On which he immediately 
proceeded to his cabinet, where he found many officers in wait- 
ing, to whom he gave orders for the day. To the Bishop of 
Orleans, first almoner, he said that he would go to mass at noon, 
instead of half past-nine, as he had intended ; to the Marquis de 
Livry, his first maitre-d'hotel, that he would dine in his private 
apartment, and that he would sup f au grand couvert," that is, 
in state ; to Bontemps, who handed to him his watch and reli- 
quary, that he would visit the fives' court ; to the officer of the 
wardrobe, that he would go out at two o'clock, and would take 
his mantle and muff; then, putting on his ordinary peruque, he 
took his seat at the upper end of a table covered with green 
velvet, the Dauphin and other illustrious and distinguished 
persons taking their seats near him, according to their rank. 
At the conclusion of the council, his majesty repaired to the 
chapel, and, in passing, gave the watchword of the day to the 
gendarmes, dragoons, and musqueteers. 

During mass, the king's musicians performed a fine motet, 
composed by the Abbe Robert. At one o'clock the Marquis de 
Livry, baton in hand, announces that dinner is served, when 
Louis, attended constantly by a captain of the guard, repairs to 
his apartment, two attendants preceding him, carrying a table 
already set out. The Sieur du Plessis, who was in waiting, hands 
to the Duke de Beauvillers a moistened napkin, which the 
Dauphin presents to the king. Each dish had been tasted be- 
forehand, and on a sign from the king, an esquire-carver cuts up 
the viands, and the gentleman in waiting changes the king's 
plate. After he had dined, his majesty, throwing on his mantle, 
and having received his muff from the master of the wardrobe, 
descends to his carriage, which is waiting for him in the marble 
court, a crowd of seigneurs ranging themselves on each side of 
the staircase. After remaining some time at the fives' court, 
where the Dukes de Chartres, de Bourgogne, and du Maine were 
enjoying this favourite game, he returns to the palace. About 
three o'clock he pays a visit to Madame de Maintenon, where, 
reclining in an arm-chair near the fire-place, opposite this lady, 
who is working a piece of tapestry, he every day passed one or 



LOUIS' RETIRING TO BED. 417 

two hours, listening, occasionally, to Racine, who came here 
sometimes to read his compositions. ' Esther' and ' Athalie,' 
two of Racine's best productions, were performed in this apart- 
ment by the young ladies of the school of St. Cyr, for the king's 
amusement, w T ho was highly pleased with the unexpected enter- 
tainment. The performance concluded at an early hour, and at 
ten o'clock Louis took his departure, after remaining some time 
in conversation with madame, who had already retired to bed. 
The king drawing the bed-curtains, than repaired to the apart- 
ment in which he was to sup " au grand couvert." 

The different officers had already made the preparations for 
this ceremony ; the table had been laid out by a gentleman in 
waiting ; and the dishes were brought in according to a ceremo- 
nial settled by an ordinance of the year 1681. Being seated at 
the table, the king requested the Dauphin and the princes to 
take their places at the other end. The Dauphin presenting 
a napkin to his majesty, supper commenced, six gentlemen re- 
maining standing to wait upon the royal party. When the king 
wished to drink, the chief butler called out in a loud voice, " a 
boire pour le roi," on which two of the principal servants under 
him, having made an obeisance, presented a silver-gilt cup and 
two carafes, and tasted the beverage, when his majesty helped 
himself, and, after another obeisance, the two officers withdrew 
to the side-board. Performances of music took place during 
the repast, and a crowd of courtiers and persons of distinction 
were present, who remained standing, or occupied seats around 
the apartment. All rose on the king getting up from table, 
and his majesty proceeded to the grand saloon, whither the 
courtiers followed him. Here he remained standing for a few 
minutes, engaged in conversation ; then, bowing to the ladies, 
he rejoined his family in another apartment. 

About midnight preparations were made for the king's 
retiring. A cold collation was taken into the apartment where 
he slept; the arm-chair was drawn to the fire-place, and the 
chief barber arranged the dressing-table. On entering, the 
king found the courtiers again assembled. He gave his hat, 
gloves, and cane, to the Marquis de la Salle, who handed them 
to Saint Michel ; and, while he unfastens his belt in front, De 
la Salle detaches it behind, and Saint Michel places it, with the 
sword on the dressing-table. His majesty then says a prayer, 
and the almoner, who holds the wax lights, also repeats a 
prayer for the king, and informs him that mass will be said 
next day at nine o'clock. The king, returning to his seat, hands 
his watch and reliquary to a valet-de-chambre, and the Duke 
de Beauvillers, having asked his majesty by whom he wished 
to be lighted, the Duke de Chartres is distinguished by this 
mark of royal favour, and takes the wax lights into his hands. 



418 ON THE ARTS, 

The king then takes off the blue ribbon, which De la Salle 
receives, as well as the king's cravat and waistcoat, and his 
majesty sitting down, Bontemps and Bachelier take off his 
garters, and two valets each draw off one of the king's shoes 
and stockings, which Saint Michel places on an arm-chair near 
the bed. Two pages present the king with his slippers, and 
the Dauphin his " chemise de nuit," which had been aired by 
a valet of the wardrobe, and his majesty rises to put on his 
robe-de-charnbre, at the same time bowing to the courtiers, who 
take this as the signal for withdrawing. Bontemps takes the 
candlestick from the Duke de Chartres, and gives it to one of 
the nobles who had solicited the honour of holding it, and the 
groom of the chamber cries out, " Allons, messieurs, passez." 
The " grand coucher" is finished, and only the princes and 
others who had been present at the " petit lever " remain. The 
king now seats himself on a folding seat, near the balustrade, 
and Quentin combs and arranges his hair, while two valets 
hold a looking-glass and a light. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld 
presents the king with his nightcap and two handkerchiefs, and 
the Duke de Beauvillers hands to the Dauphin a napkin, which 
the latter is to present to the king. All the attendants are now 
dismissed, the physician alone remaining, and, after he with- 
draws, the bed is aired, and the king is left to enjoy, if he can, 
the repose which such irksome ceremonies must have made 
needful. Bontemps draws the curtains, secures the doors, and 
then lies down on a bed prepared for him in the same chamber. 



I shall now proceed to a few particulars of the state of the 
arts under "Louis XIV. and his contemporaries." In such a 
sketch, of course, it will be impossible to give all the artists and 
their works, but mention of a few of the leading characters I 
trust will interest my reader. 

Simon Vouet, a celebrated painter, born at Paris, 1582, 
After studying under his father, v also a painter, he visited 
Constantinople, Venice, and Italy, and, settling at Rome, 
he was patronized by Urban VIII., and made president of the 
royal academy of St. Luke. He was recalled in 1627, after 
a residence of 14 years at Rome, by Louis XIII., and employed 
in adorning the palaces of the Louvre, Luxembourg, St. Ger- 
main, and other places. Though he had no genius for grand 
compositions, and was unacquainted with the rules of per- 
spective, he was a great master in colouring, and to him 
France is indebted for banishing the insipid and barbarous 
manner which then prevailed. As the founder of the French 
school, he had numerous respectable pupils, Le Brun, Perrier, 
Mignard, Le Sueur, Dorigny, and others, who, in acquiring 
celebrity to themselves, reflected high honour on their in- 



AND EMINENT ARTISTS. 419 

structor. He died, worn more with labour than with years, in 
1641, aged 59. The best part of his works was engraved by 
his son-in-law, Dorigny. 

Francis Perrier, a French painter, born at Macon, 1590. 
Being dissipated in his youth, he ran away from his parents, 
and then joined himself to a blind beggar, whom he accompa- 
nied to Rome, and with whom he shared the alms obtained on 
the road. In the midst of distress, at Rome he applied himself 
to his pencil, and soon arrived at such eminence as to be ena- 
bled to live independently. He then returned to France through 
Lyons, and, after a second residence of 10 years in Italy, he 
came again to Paris in high favour with the great. He painted 
the gallery of the Hotel de la Prilliere ; he etched some of 
Raphael's works, and other pieces ; and also engraved, in the 
chiaro oscuro style, some antiquities in an admired style, of which 
some thought he was the inventor. In his manner he chiefly 
imitated Lanfranc, and in his landscapes he was little inferior 
to Caracci. He died Professor of the academy, 1650. 

Nicholas Poussin, an eminent French painter, born at 
Andeley, Normandy, 1594. He studied at Paris, and in his 
30th year passed to Rome ; but he was scarcely able to main- 
tain himself till his genius burst through the clouds of prejudice 
and established his character as a great and sublime artist. He 
devoted much of his time to the contemplation of the sculp- 
tured heroes of ancient Rome and her various relics of anti- 
quity. To this is attributed that exactness in the manners and 
customs, the times and places, which he everywhere mingles 
with elegance of form, correctness and variety of proportions, 
interesting air, and boldness of feature. His fame was so great 
that Louis XIII. sent him an invitation, which he could not 
refuse. Though flattered, and lodged in the Tuilleries, he 
sighed for the classic retreats of his favourite Rome, and at last 
returned and died there of a paralytic stroke, 1665. His chief 
works in France were the Lord's Supper; and the Labours of 
Hercules, for the Louvre, which he did not complete, in conse- 
quence of the satirical remarks made by Vouet and his pupils 
upon him. 

Gasper Poussin must not be confounded with the foregoing 
painter. His real name was Dughet, but he assumed that of 
Poussin, when that celebrated artist married his sister. His 
landscapes are much admired, particularly his land storms. 
Some have thought him entitled to the praise of uniting the 
excellences of his brother-in-law and of Claude Lorraine. He 
was born 1613, and died 1675. 

John Petitot, born at Geneva 1607. From following the 
calling of enamelling, he acquired great taste in painting. Tra- 
velling into Italy for the purpose, he obtained a perfect know 



420 INSOLENT PLEASANTRY OF LOUIS. 

iedge of the preparation and management of colours, in com- 
panionship with his brother-in-law, Peter Bordier. The former 
executed the heads and hands, the latter, the hair, draperies, 
and grounds. They were indebted greatly to Sir Theodore 
Turquet de Mayerne, a Genevan of noble French family, whose 
father, a Huguenot, had fled to that city, for the kindness with 
which he communicated his chemical knowledge to them, to ex- 
hibit the process of the principal colours that ought to be em- 
ployed in enamel, and which surpassed the famous vitrifications 
of Venice and Limoges. This Sir Theodore had been appointed 
principal physician to four kings, Henry IV. of France, James I., 
Charles I., and Charles II., of England. He was knighted 
in 1624, and died at Chelsea in 1655, aged 83. Mayerne's skill 
in chemistry greatly exceeded that of any of his contemporaries, 
and he was the first who applied the mineral specifics, which 
form the basis of the modern pharmacopoeias. But his applica- 
tion of chemistry to the composition of pigments, and which he 
liberally communicated to the painters, who enjoyed the royal 
patronage, to Rubens, Vandyke, and Petitot, tended to the pro- 
motion of the art, and its eventual perfection. Rubens painted 
his portrait, in which he is represented as holding a skull ; one 
of his biographers prettily remarks that his figure, at the ad- 
vanced age of 82, shows such vigour that the skull is the only 
emblem of mortality. The decapitation of Charles I. obliged 
Petitot to fly to Paris, where Charles II. introduced him to 
Louis XIV., who granted him a pension and a lodging in the 
Louvre. The revocation of the edict of Nantes terrified the 
painter, who was a zealous protestant ; and after having resided 
in France 36 years, he quitted it for Geneva. But not without 
difficulty, for that wicked persecutor, Louis XIV. sent Bossuet 
to convert him, as he did not like to part with so favourite 
a painter. The subtle apostle, observes Walpole, who had 
woven such a texture of devotion and ambition, that the latter 
was scarce distinguishable from the former, had the mortifica- 
tion of not succeeding; and, at the advanced age of nearly 
80, he got off to Geneva, in 1685. His children, who dreaded 
the king's wrath, remained at Paris, and, throwing themselves at 
his majesty's feet, implored his protection. " His majesty," 
says the author from whom Walpole quotes, " received them 
with great goodness, and told them he willingly forgave an old 
man, who had a whim of being buried with his fathers." Wal- 
pole says, he does u not doubt but this is given, and passed at 
the time, for a bon-mot, but a very flat witticism cannot depre- 
ciate the glory of a confessor, who has suffered imprisonment, 
resisted eloquence, and sacrificed the emoluments of court 
favour to the uprightness of his conscience. Petitot did not 
wish to be buried with his fathers, but to die in their religion." 



ENGRAVERS AND F 42 J 

Honour be to the memory of Walp^ic ior this passage ! When 
we look back to Louis' death-bed, think of his remorseful 
striking of his breast, and witness the humiliation through which 
this proud and insolent persecutor passed — and relative to this 
infamous treatment of the protestants, I really sometimes feel 
that the insolence is worse than the cruelty — who can wonder, 
at, or deplore, his hopeless condition ? Oh ! what a mercy that 
the cry of the blood of the saints is sure to reach the ears of 
One who will assuredly take terrible vengeance! Returned to 
his native country, the good old man continued the profession 
he had almost founded with such applause that he was beset by 
so large a concourse as to be compelled to quit Geneva, and 
retire to Vervay. He was one day painting a portrait of his 
wife, when he was seized suddenly with an illness, which car- 
ried him off in a day, in 1691, aged 84. By his wife he had 
17 children; one only of whom, who settled at London, fol- 
lowed his father's profession. Enamels by the father are well 
known at Paris, exhibiting portraits of the ladies of the harem 
of Louis XIV. 

Nicholas Mignard, a French painter, was born at Troyes, 
1608. He studied in Italy, and married at Avignon, and at last 
became rector of the Paris academy of painting. His portraits 
and historical pieces were much admired. He died of a dropsy 
1668. 

Peter Mignard, called the Roman, as for 20 years he 
studied at Rome, was the younger brother of Nicholas, and was 
also born at Troyes in 1610. He was much esteemed at Rome, 
and afterwards at Paris, where Louis XIV. sat ten times to him, 
ennobled him, and made him his chief painter at the death of 
Le Brum He died March 13th, 1695. 

Carlo Dolce, a painter of Florence, born 1616, died 1686. 
His St, John, though painted only in his eleventh year, was 
greatly admired. His religious pieces are very highly finished. 
He lived much in Paris. 

Michael Dorigny, a French painter, and engraver in aqua- 
fortis, born at St. Quintin, 1617. He was professor of the academy 
of painting at Paris, and died 1665. His paintings are seen in 
the castle of Vincennes. 

Nicholas Dorigny, an eminent French artist (who en- 
graved). His finest works are the Bark of Lanfranco, the St. 
Petronilla of Guerchino, the Descent from the Cross by Vole- 
terra, the Transfiguration after Raphael. He was knighted by 
George I., and died at Paris, aged 90, in 1746. He had a bro- 
ther, Louis, also a painter, who died at Verona in 1742. 

Eustache le Sueur, a painter born at Paris 1617. He 
studied under Simon Vouet, and, though never out of France, 
he acquired great celebrity, and carried his art nearly to perfec- 

B B 



422 BLUNTNESS OF OLIVER CROMWELL. 

tion, on models of antiquity, and after the best Italian masters. 
The most admired of his extant works is the Life of St. Bruno, 
in the Carthusian cloisters at Paris. He died April 30, 1655. 

Sir Peter Lely held a distinguished place in our own 
country. He was born in 1617, in Westphalia; his name was 
Vander Vaas ; but as his father was born at the Hague, in a 
perfumer's shop, the sign of the lily, Peter dropped his foreign 
name, and adopted that of Lely. Having practised at Paris, he 
first came to England in the suite of the Prince of Orange when 
he came over in 1643 to espouse Mary, daughter of Charles I., 
who retained him in his court. It is impossible to give a list of his 
many paintings. He executed a remarkable picture of Charles I., 
holding a letter directed " au roi nionseigneur," and the Duke 
of York, at 14, presenting a pen-knife to him with which to cut 
the strings. The countenance of Charles I. strongly indicates 
the distresses of his mind, yet manifests mildness and fortitude, 
and brings before us vividly, says Gilpin, the feelings of this 
amiable prince at the most disastrous period of his life. Oliver 
Cromwell sat to him, and, while sitting, characteristically said, 
" Mr. Lely, I desire you would use all your skill to paint my 
picture truly like me, ^and not flatter me at all ; but remark all 
these roughnesses, pimples, warts, and every thing as you see 
me ; otherwise I will never pay a farthing for it." Horace Wal- 
pole says, " It would be endless to recapitulate the works of this 
master ; though so many have merit, few are admirable or curi- 
ous enough to be particularized." Of his own property at his 
death, in 1680, his collection fetched £26,000, and besides an 
estate in land of £900 per annum. 

Charles le Brun, although of Scotch extraction, was born 
in France in 1619. This son of a statuary, destined by nature 
to excel as a painter, at the age of three, drew figures w 7 ith char- 
coal, and, when only 12, made a picture of his uncle so exact 
that it is still admired as a highly finished piece. He studied 
under Vouet and Poussin, and was fortunately patronized by 
Seguier, Mazarin, and Colbert, by whose munificence he im- 
proved himself, and rose to distinction. The honours which he 
received from the king, and the appointments he held, were 
fully deserved by the elegant and amiable painter who was 
estimable as much for excellence of private character, as for 
professional superiority. His most famous pieces were St. 
Stephen, the family of Darius, five scenes in the history of 
Alexander ; besides the beautiful paintings which adorned the 
palaces of Fontainbleau and Versailles, especially the staircase of 
the latter, in which he was engaged 14 years. Le Brun wrote a 
curious treatise on physiognomy, and another on the character 
of the passions. He died at his house in the Gobelins, where 
he was director of the manufactory, in 1690. 



HUMOUR OF THE EARL OF PEMBROKE. 423 

Charles Perrault, born at Paris, 1628. Colbert made him 
clerk of the buildings ; and, being raised to the comptroller- 
generalship of finances, he was enabled to gratify his wishes by 
patronising learned men, and encouraging the arts and sciences. 
Under his influence the academies of painting, sculpture, and 
architecture were founded. Colbert's death, in 1683, led to his 
disgrace, and he left a vicious and ungrateful court for a life of 
solitude and study. He wrote with acceptance, particularly a poem 
called La Peinture ; also the Cabinet of the Fine Arts; and con- 
ducted with great ability controversies on the subjects of science 
and art, with men of eminence, such as Boileau and Menage. 
Madame Dacier uses severity in criticising him as an author, 
what claims soever he may have had to taste and ability in the 
art of painting, but describes him as pious, sincere, virtuous, 
polite, and modest, employing his influence not to serve him- 
self, but his friends. He died in 1703, at the age of 75. Claude, 
Nicholas, and Peter, his three brothers, were distinguished in 
literature and the fine arts. 

Claude le Fevre, born in 1633, studied first at the palace 
of Fontainbleau, and then at Paris under Le Sueur and Le 
Brun. He is described by a good French author as equalling 
the best masters in France. Fie came over to England, and 
died 1677. 

Henry Gascar, who also came to England, was a French 
portrait-painter, patronized by the Duchess of Portsmouth. His 
style is said to have been tawdry, infected by the pomp of 
Louis XIV. Walpole says, " His best performance was a half- 
length, at Lord Pomfret's, of Philip, Earl of Pembroke, which he 
drew by stealth, by order of his patroness, whose sister Lord 
Pembroke had married. I suppose this desire of having her 
brother-in-law's picture was dated before a quarrel she had with 
him for ill-usage of her sister. The duchess threatened to com- 
plain to the king ; the earl told her, if she did, he would set 
her upon her head at Charing Cross, and show the nation its 
grievance !" 

Simon Varelst, born in 1664, was a remarkable Dutch 
flower-painter. He came to England from the continent under 
the patronage of the Duke of Buckingham. He set up for a 
portrait-painter, and always introduced flowers. Lord Chan- 
cellor Shaftesbury going to sit, was received by him with his 
hat on. Don't you know me ? said the peer. " Yes," replied the 
painter, " you are my lord chancellor. And do you know me ? 
I am Varelst. The king can make any man a chancellor, but he 
can make nobody a Varelst." In this we trace a copy of the re- 
partee of Henry VIII. to the nobleman who affronted Holbein. 
In 1680 Varelst, Parmentiere, and two other painters, went to 
Paris. He returned to England, his eccentricities having settled 



424 BOLDNESS OF VERRIO. 

in a species of insanity. He went once to Whitehall, saying he 
wanted to converse with the king for two or three hours. Being 
repulsed, he said. " He is king of England — I am king of paint- 
ing — why should we not converse together familiarly?" He 
was at length shut up, but recovered his senses, though not his 
genius, according to Walpole, and lived to a great age. 

Antonio Verrio, born 1634, in Naples, first settled in 
France, and painted the high altar of the Carmelites at Thou- 
louse, described in Du Puy's "Traite surla Peinture." Charles II, 
sent for him to England. He was famous rn ceilings ; and, 
imitating a custom of the ancients, he drew a portrait of An- 
thony, Earl of Shaftesbury, on one of the ceilings at Windsor in 
the character of faction dispersing libels ; as in another place 
he revenged a private quarrel with the housekeeper, Mrs. Mar- 
riott, by borrowing her ugly face for one of the furies. With 
still greater impropriety, he introduced himself, Sir Godfrey 
Kneller, and Bap. May, surveyor of the works, in long periwigs, 
as spectators of Christ healing the sick. Once at Hampton- 
court, when he had but lately received an advance of £1,000, he 
found the king in a circle he could not approach. He called out, 
" Sire, I desire the favour of speaking to your Majesty." " Well, 
Verrio," said the king, " what is your request? " " Money, sir; 
I am so short of ce.sh that I am not able to pay my workmen, 
and your majesty and I have learned by experience that pedlars 
and painters cannot give long credit." The king smiled, and 
said he had but lately ordered him £1,000. " Yes, sir," replied 
he, " but that was soon paid away, and I have no gold left." 
*' At that rate," said the king, " you would soon spend more than 
I do to maintain my family." " True," answered Verrio, " but 
does your majesty keep an open table as I do ? " At the Revo- 
lution, which was not agreeable to Verrio's principles, he refused 
to work for William III. He now painted at Burleigh for Lord 
Exeter. For Bacchus bestriding a hogshead he gave a por- 
trait of a dean who had offended him. It was more excuseable 
that, when his patron obliged him to insert a pope in a proces- 
sion not very honourable to the Romish religion, he added the 
portrait of the then archbishop of Canterbury. Lord Exeter at 
last persuaded him to serve King William, where he painted, 
says Walpole, the great staircase, and as ill as if he had spoiled it 
out of principle. His eyes at last failed him, and Queen Anne 
gave him a pension of £200 a-year for life, but he did not enjoy 
it long, dying at Hampton Court in 1707. 

Philip Duval, a Frenchman, studied under Le Brun, and 
afterwards in Italy. He fell into the tawdry and inflated style 
universal in France during the period of Louis XIV. 

John Vosterman was a neat painter of small landscapes in 
oil, as may be seen by two views of Windsor, still in the gallery 



FIRST VISIT OF A KING TO THE CITY OF PARIS. 425 

there. He removed from Utrecht to Nimeguen after the rapid 
conquests of the French in 1672. The Marquis de Bethune 
made him his major-domo, employing him to purchase pictures 
to carry into France. He came over to England, and went with 
Sir William Soames who was sent ambassador to Constantinople 
by James II. The ambassador died on the road, and the pain- 
ter is thought to have joined his old patron the marquis. 

Elizabeth-Sophia Cheron, born 1648, nourished in France, 
and died in 1711. 

Jacques Rousseau, of Paris, improved himself by visiting 
Italy. On his return he was employed at Marli, but being a 
protestant, he quitted his work on the persecution of his bre- 
thren, and retired to Switzerland. Louis invited him back ; but 
he refused to return. He then went to Holland ; thence he 
came to England, and was employed in adorning the new house 
of the Duke of Montagu (now the British Museum). Some of 
his pictures are yet over the doors at Hampton Court. He left 
only a widow ; but bequeathed most of his property to his fellow- 
sufferers, the refugees. 

Charles de la Fosse, born 1640. A painter of great ce- 
lebrity in France. The author of the Abrege calls him " un des 
plus grands coloristes de 1'ecole Francoise ;" and upon that ac- 
count he was selected to paint the cupola of the Invalides at 
Paris. He came over to England, and at Montagu House 
painted two ceilings, the Apotheosis of Isis, and an assembly of 
the gods. William III. pressed him to stay here ; but he de- 
clined his offer, in hopes of being appointed first painter to his 
own monarch. He died in 1716. 

Nicholas LARGiLLiERE,born 1656, an eminent French por- 
trait-painter, practised in England in the reign of James II., but 
retired to France at the Revolution. He was only 18 years old 
when he came here in the reign of Charles IL, and was employ- 
ed by Lely to re-paint some parts of the pictures at Windsor. 
Charles saw a picture of a sleeping Cupid, of which Largilliere 
had re-painted the legs. He appeared before the king, who said 
to the lords in waiting, " Regardez cet enfant, on ne croiroit 
jamais, si on ne le voyoit, car ce n'est qu'un enfant." He painted 
three pieces for the king, which were sufficient to secure the 
royal patronage. But he left England for Paris, and there 
painted two large pictures for the H6tel-de-Ville. 1. The en- 
tertainment given to Louis XIV. and his court by the city in 
1687 (it is remarkable in French history that this was the first 
occasion on which any king of France had visited the city of 
Paris). 2. The marriage ceremony of the Duke of Burgundy to 
Adelaide de Savoy. He made three or four removals backwards 
and forwards from Paris to London. He once painted James II. 
in armour, with an immense wig and feathers on his helmet 

bb 3 



426 INSTANCE OF KNELLER'S MODESTY. 

lying near him. His pictures have an extraordinary air of na- 
ture, and a freshness of colouring scarcely inferior to Vandyke. 
He lived to be 90 years old, and is said to have painted 1500 
pictures, including some of large dimensions. His son was a 
counsellor of the Chatelet at Paris, and one of the Commissaries 
at war in the New Brisac. Largilliere wrote for the Opera Co- 
mique, and the Foire. 

Godfrey Kneller, born 1648, "lessened," says Walpole, 
" by his own reputation, as he chose to make it subservient to 
his fortune." He was capable of vying with the greatest mas- 
ters ; " but he united the highest vanity with the most consum- 
mate negligence of character — at least, where he offered one 
picture to fame he sacrificed twenty to lucre." However, he 
has left so many beautiful portraits of the ornaments of an illus- 
trious age that we ought not to regret he confined his talents to 
portrait-painting, when we look at the pictures of Marlborough, 
Newton, Dryden, Godolphin, Somers, the Duchess of Grafton, 
Lady Ranelagh, and Gibbons. The last was one of his most es- 
teemed performances, in which the freedom and nature of Van- 
dyke are blended with the harmony of colouring peculiar to Andrea 
Sacchi. Ten sovereigns sat to him : Charles II., James II. and his 
queen, William and Mary, Anne, George L, Louis XIV., Peter 
the Great, and the emperor Charles VI. For the last portrait, 
he was created knight of the Roman empire ; by Queen Anne 
he was made a gentleman of the privy-chamber, and by the uni- 
versity of Oxford a doctor. When he had finished the picture 
of Louis XIV., that monarch asked him what mark of his es- 
teem would be most agreeable to him ? Contrary to the known 
arrogance of the artist's character, he replied, with modesty, that 
if his majesty would bestow a quarter of an hour on him, that 
he might make a drawing of his head for himself, he should 
think it the highest honour he could possibly receive. The king 
complied, and the painter drew him on grey paper with black 
and red chalk, heightened with white. 

Kneller was born at Lubec ; his grand-father had an estate 
near Hall, in Saxony. Godfrey at first went to Leyden, where, 
being destined for a military life, he applied to mathematics and 
fortification ; but his father at last consented to his turning to 
painting, and he studied under Bol, and received some instruc- 
tions from Rembrandt. He resided afterwards in Italy, and at 
Venice was esteemed and employed by some of the first families. 
Kneller and his brother came to England in 1674, without in- 
tending to reside here. He painted the portraits of one Banks, 
a merchant ; they were seen by Vernon, secretary to the Duke of 
Monmouth, who persuaded his master to sit to the new artist. 
The duke was so charmed that he prevailed on his father to sit 
to Kneller Now Charles II. had promised his brother, the 



THE KIT-CAT CLUB. 427 

Duke of York, to sit to Lely ; and the indolent king, unwilling 
to have double trouble, proposed that both artists should draw 
from him at the same time. Lely chose the light he liked best ; 
the stranger was to draw as he could. He performed his task 
with such ease and expedition that his piece was in a manner 
finished when Lely's was only dead-coloured. The novelty 
pleased, continues Walpole, yet Lely deserved most honour, for 
he did justice to his new competitor, confessing his abilities, and 
the likeness. This success fixed Kneller here ; and the series of 
his portraits proves the continuance of his reputation. James II. 
was sitting to him for his picture for Secretary Pepys, when he 
received the news that the Prince of Orange was landed ; the 
king ordered Kneller to proceed, that his good friend Pepys 
should not be disappointed. 

William III. distinguished this painter; and, during one of 
the absences of the king, the queen suggested his painting the 
beauties of his court; this is said to have rendered her un- 
popular. Lord Dorchester advised the queen against it, saying, 
11 Madam, if the king was to ask for the portraits of all the wits 
in his court, would not the rest think he called them fools ?" 
The ladies painted were, the queen ; Carey Fraser, Countess of 
Peterborough ; Catherine Boyle, Countess of Ranelagh ; Lady 
Middleton; Miss Pitt; Diana Vere, Duchess of St. Albans; 
Mary Bentinck, Countess of Essex ; Mary Compton, Countess of 
Dorset; Isabella Bennet, Duchess of Grafton; Sarah Jennings, 
Duchess of Marlborough. These beautiful portraits are in a room 
where William usually dined in private. The Kit-cat-club, gene- 
rally mentioned as a set of wits, in reality were the patriots that 
saved Britain; their portraits were painted by Sir Godfrey (for 
King William had knighted him in 1692), and this greatly added 
to his celebrity. They were painted for Jacob Tonson, the 
bookseller, at that time their secretary, and by him placed in a 
room, which he had built to receive them, at Barn Elms, Surrey, 
where the meetings of the members were held. The singular 
denomination of this club was derived from the tavern of Chris- 
topher Cat, a pastry-cook, in King Street, Westminster, where, 
they met upon its institution. The term has been adopted by 
the painters for that size, in particular, which Kneller chose for 
these portraits, as sitting at a table. 

He lived to draw George I., and by that king was made a 
baronet, May 24, 1715. In 1722 Sir Godfrey was seized with 
a violent fever ; a humour fell in his arm, and it was opened; 
he languished till October 27, 1723. His body lay in state, and 
was buried at Whitton, but a monument was erected at West- 
minster Abbey. Sir Godfrey was a friend of Pope's, who once 
laid a wager that there was no flattery so gross but his friend 
would swallow. Pope therefore one day said to him, " Sir God- 



428 IRREVERENCE OF SIR GODFREY. 

frey, I believe if the Almighty had had your assistance, the 
world would have been formed more perfect." The witty 
painter, laying his hand gently on the poet's deformed shoulder 
replied, " Fore G — , sir, I believe so." Kneller talked with im- 
proper freedom on religious subjects. Pope used to tell that the 
great painter said he dreamed that he had ascended a very high 
hill to heaven, and saw St. Peter at the gate, with a great crowd 
behind him. " Arrived there, St. Luke immediately descried 
me, and asked if I were not the famous Sir Godfrey Kneller ? 
"We had a long conversation upon our beloved art, and I had 
forgotten all about St. Peter, who had called out to me, ' Sir 
Godfrey, enter in, and take whatever station you like best.' " 

He once overheard a low fellow cursing himself. " G — d — 
you ! G — may d — the Duke of Marlborough, or perhaps Sir 
Godfrey Kneller ; but do you think he would take the trouble 

of d g such a scoundrel as you are ?" The same vanity, says 

Dallaway, that could think itself entitled to pre-eminence even 
in horrors, alighted on a juster distinction when he told his 
tailor, who offended him by proposing his son for an apprentice, 
"Dost thou think, man, I can make thy son a painter? No; 
God Almighty only makes painters." Sir Godfrey used to para- 
phrase the text of scripture, " In my father's house are many 
mansions," thus : " At the day of judgment," said he, " God will 
examine mankind on their different professions : to one he will 
say, Of what sect was you? — I was a papist. — Go you there. 
What was yoft ? — A protestant. — Go you there. And you ? — 
A Turk. — Go you there. And you, Sir Godfrey ? — I was of no 
sect. — Then will He say, * Sir Godfrey, choose your place !' ' 
In the Aubrey MS§. occurs a note of a conversation which Sir 
Godfrey held with some gentlemen at Oxford, relative to the 
identity of the alleged son of James II. Doubts having been 
expressed, he exclaimed, with warmth, " His father and mother 
have sat to me about 36 times a-piece, and I know every line 
and bit of their faces. Mine Gott ! I could paint King James 
7ioiv, by memory. I say the child is so like both that there is 
not a feature in his face but what belongs either to father or 
mother; this I am sure of, and cannot be mistaken: nay the 
nails of his fingers are his mother's, the queen that was. Doc- 
tor ! you may be out in your letters, but I cannot be out in 
my lines." 

His wit was ready ; his bon-mots deservedly admired. In 
Great Queen Street he lived next door to Dr. Ratcliffe. Kneller 
was fond of flowers, and had a fine collection. As there was a 
great intimacy between him and the physician, he permitted the 
latter to have a door into his garden, but Ratcliffe 's servants 
gathering and destroying the flowers, Kneller sent him word he 
must shut up the door. Ratcliffe peevishly replied, "Tell him 



pope, kneller/s pupil. 429 

he may do any thing with it but paint it." Sir Godfrey answered, 
- " I can take any thing from him but physic ! " He acted as a 
justice of the peace at Whitton, being so much more swayed by 
equity than law, that his judgments, accompanied with humour, 
are said to have occasioned those lines by Pope — 

" I think Sir Godfrey should decide the suit, 
Who sent the thief (that stole the cash) away, 
And punished him that put it in his way. 

This alluded to his dismissing a soldier who had stolen a joint 
of meat, and accused the butcher of having tempted him by it. 
Whenever Kneller was applied to, to determine what parish a 
poor man belonged to, he always enquired which parish was 
the richer, and settled the poor man there ; nor would he ever 
sign a warrant to distrain the goods of a poor man who could 
not pay a tax. Herein he showed a certain kindness of heart ; 
while in other instances his peculiarities amused. Once a 
handsome young woman came before him to swear a rape ; 
struck with her beauty, he continued examining her, as he sat 
painting, till he had taken her likeness. On another occasion, 
seeing a constable coming towards him at the head of a mob, 
he called to him, without any enquiry into the affair, " Mr. Con- 
stable, you see that turning — go that way, and you will find an 
ale-house, the sign of the king's head — go, and make it up." If 
Kneller was vain, can it be wondered at when he had been 
flattered by Dryden, Addison, Prior, Pope, and Steele? He 
amassed a great fortune, though he lived magnificently, and 
lost £20,000 in the South Sea bubble. He left an estate of 
£2,000 a year ; partly bequeathed to his wife, and partly to his 
illegitimate daughter's son, Godfrey Huckle, with instructions 
to take the name and arms of Kneller. The representative of 
the family, in 1827, was Godfrey John Kneller, Esq. of Don- 
head Hall, Wiltshire. 

John Baptiste Monoyer, born at Lille in 1635, soon left 
the historical department for the painting of flowers. His 
pieces are not so exquisitely finished as Van Huysum's, but 
are in a bolder style. At Paris, in 1663, he was received with 
applause into the academy. He was employed at Versailles, 
Trianon, Marli, and Meuclon; and painted in the Hotel de Bre- 
tonvilliers at Paris, and other houses. The Duke of Montagu 
brought him to England, and his works are to be seen at Mon- 
tagu House, Hampton Court, the Duke of St. Alban's, at Wind- 
sor, Kensington, Burlington House, &c. The author of the 
Abrege, speaking of Baptist, La Fosse, and Rousseau, says that 
these three French painters have extorted from the English a 
sincere confession, " qu'on ne peut aller plus loin en fait de 
peinture." Which exaggerated praise is said by Dallaway to 



430 SCOTCH PATRONAGE OF AST. 

be due only to national vanity in him who bestowed it. Baptist is 
undoubtedly capital in his way, the two others are not masterly. 

Peter Berchett was born in France, 1659, and beginning 
to draw at the age of 15, under La Fosse, he improved so fast 
that, within three years, he was employed in the royal palaces. 
He came to England in 1681, to work under Rambour, a French 
painter of architecture, whom Vertue says was living in 1721. 
Having staid a year, he returned to Marli. He was engaged 
by King William III. for 15 months at his palace at Loo. He 
painted the ceiling in the chapel of Trinity College, Oxford. 
His last work was a bacchanalian, to which he put his name 
the day before he died, in Jan. 1720, at Mary-le-bone, where he 
was buried. 

Louis Cheron, born at Paris 1660, son of Henry Cheron, 
an enamel painter, and brother of Elizabeth Sophia Cheron, an 
admired paintress, who also engraved many ancient gems. The 
author of the Abrege magnificently describes this artist as going 
to Italy, and that " il a toujours cherche Raphael et Jules 
Romain" — a pursuit in which he was by no means successful, 
Having come to England he was employed at the Duke of Mon- 
tagu's at Boughton, at Burleigh, and at Chatsworth. He fell 
into disesteem, and was driven to design for the painters and 
engravers of the day. Towards the end of his life, Cheron etched 
from his own drawings a suite of 22 small histories for the life 
of David : they were purchased by P. F. Giffart, a bookseller at 
Paris, who applied them to a version of the Psalms in French 
metre, published in 1715. Cheron sold his drawings from Ra- 
phael, and his academic figures, to the Earl of Derby for a large 
sum. He was a man of fair character, and dying in 1 713 of apo- 
plexy, left £20 a-year to his maid servant, and the rest of his for- 
tune to his relations, and to charitable uses. With many other ar- 
tists, he rests in the great porch of the church at Covent Garden. 

Peter Vander Meulen, originally a sculptor, w T as employed 
by W T illiam III. to paint his battles. He was brother of the 
well known battle-painter who depicted the military history of 
Louis XIV. 

Sir John Medina, son of a Spanish Captain, settled at 
Brussels, where the son was born. I only mention him as re- 
markable for a few points. First of all, the Earl of Leven en- 
couraged him to go to Scotland, of all places in the world for the 
arts to receive encouragement ! But, as if Medina was doubtful 
of his customers, he stipulated for a subscription of £500 worth 
of " business," and he provided himself with a large number of 
bodies and postures, to which he painted heads. He staid some 
time there painting most of the Scotch nobility; and his bio- 
grapher adds without the separation of even a stop, as a nece- 
sary consequence (which, by the bye, was quite unnecessary), 



VANITY OF JERVAS. 431 

he " was not rich." To his poverty another " great fact" not a 
little contributed — he had twenty children. He was a highly- 
capable artist. While employed by dukes and marquises, and 
abundantly supplied with brose and kale, the Duke of Queens- 
bury also paid him in honours, having made him a knight ; in- 
deed he was the last created in Scotland before the Union, by 
this lord high-commissioner. 

Charles Jervas, a painter, born in Ireland, studied under 
Sir Godfrey Kneller ; although, from the then paucity of talent, 
he ranked at the top of his profession, yet he was defective in 
almost all the requisites of a great painter; his pictures, says 
Walpole, being a light flimsy kind of fan-painting as large as 
life. His egregious vanity snapped at all sorts of praise, and 
was greatly fostered by Pope's adulation. It is a well-known 
story that having copied — he thought surpassed — a picture of Ti- 
tian, he looked first at the one, then at the other, and at last, 
with parental fondness, cried out, " Poor little Tit ! how he 
would stare! " He wrote a translation of Don Quixotte, with- 
out understanding Spanish, says Pope. That great poet became 
the pupil of Jervas, and assiduously practised under our vain ar- 
tist for a year and a half, which probably led him to exalt the 
mediocre abilities of his tutor in " the lucid amber of his glow- 
ing lines." Jervas once painted the Lady Bridgewater, one of 
the beautiful daughters of the great Duke of Marlborough. So 
entirely did the lovely form possess his imagination, continues 
Walpole, that many a homely dame was delighted to find her 
picture resemble Lady Bridgewater. He presumed to make ad- 
vances ; but his passion could not extinguish his self-love. One 
day, as she was sitting to him, he ran over the beauties of her 
face with rapture, " but I cannot help telling your ladyship," 
said he, " that you have not a handsome ear." '* No ! " said Lady 
Bridgewater ; " pray, Mr. Jervas, what is a handsome ear ?" He 
turned aside his cap, and showed her his own. Northcote men- 
tions in his work that, when it was remarked to Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds that pictures by Jervas, though so celebrated in his day, 
were very rarely seen, he briskly answered, " because they are 
all up in the garret." He visited France and Italy, and survived 
his last journey but a short time, dying in 1740. 



The genius of architects will never be so generally interest- 
ing nor so well known as that of painters, it being not so easy 
for those addicted to that pursuit to exhibit their talents. But 
Francis Mansard, who adorned the palaces of Louis, must 
be mentioned as one of the best artists in Europe ; and his ne- 
phew, Julius Mansard, was very celebrated for building Ver- 
sailles, and the chapel of the Invalides. The works constructed 
after the designs of Perrault, Levan, and Dorbay, are well known. 



432 BOYHOOD OF PASCAL. 

In fact a mere recital of the distinguished characters who figured 
in this age would fill a much larger volume than this. Regret- 
ting want of space to record the laying- out of the wonderful 
gardens of Louis XIV. by Le Notre, and the more useful depart- 
ments of horticulture by Quintynie, I must content myself with 
a general testimony to the great advances made by the respective 
artists in their callings, whether as statuaries, medallists, seal- 
cutters, carvers, musicians, chasers in gold and silver, clock- 
makers, porcelaine manufacturers, engravers, or painters. And, 
to conclude, observe that the last age has enabled the present to 
collect and transmit to posterity all the arts and sciences which 
human industry is capable of. 

But there remain a few characters to be mentioned, whose 
memoirs could not be inwoven with the foregoing history, and 
without a record of whom I must not close these pages. Fore- 
most among these is — 

Blaise Pascal, who was born June 19, 1623, at Clermont, 
the capital of Auvergne, where his father, Stephen Pascal, held 
a high legal office. On the death of his wife, 1626, Stephen 
resigned his professional engagements, to devote himself to the 
education of his family, which consisted only of two daughters 
and Blaise ; and with this view removed to Paris. Stephen was 
a superior character, of great moral worth, and known as an 
active member of a small society of philosophers to which the 
Academie Royale, instituted 1666, owed its origin. Himself an 
ardent mathematician, as he considered that the cultivation of 
the exact sciences was by no means friendly to a taste for 
general literature, notwithstanding his son's bias, he prohibited 
his meddling with mathematics. But Blaise picked up hints 
on geometry; and, in concealment, set to work, drawing circles 
and lines, and made some progress ; till one day he was lost in 
a muse to ascertain why the three angles of a triangle are to- 
gether equal to two right ones, when his father surprised him. 
The figures on the wall told the tale, and few questions sufficed 
to show the occupation of his son's mind. Blaise was 12 years 
old : his father abandoned all restriction, put Euclid into his 
hands, and Blaise became a confirmed geometrician. Such 
were the amusements of his leisure hours. His labours, under 
his father, were given to the classics. To help his father in the 
making of some calculations, Blaise afterwards invented his 
famous arithmetical machine, which he sent with a letter to 
Christina, the celebrated Queen of Sweden. 

His great fame as a man of science rests not solely on his 
geometrical labours ; he was wonderfully successful in several 
important experiments in natural philosophy ; and his applica- 
tion and enterprise were the more astonishing as he was the 
victim of a disease that, from boyhood, never let him pass a 



EVANGELICAL CLERGY. 433 

day without great pain. This distemper, it was naturally- 
thought, increased by intense study, and, when too late, his 
friends endeavoured to encourage relaxation from his severer 
pursuits. His father died in 1651, one sister was married, 
the other now joined the devout recluses of Port Royal des 
Champs. Blaise fell into a course of dissipation, and was com- 
pelled to abandon his scientific pursuits, and seek relief in 
medicine and more free association with general society. In 
1654, he was one day riding in his carriage on the Pont de 
Neuilly ; at a part of the bridge unprotected by a parapet, his 
horses, becoming unruly, plunged into the Seine, the traces 
having broken ; and thus was Pascal saved from instant death. 
A nervousness succeeded, which to a certain extent disordered 
his imagination ; the image of his perilous position before his 
eyes, he always fancied himself on the brink of a precipice. It 
had the salutary effect of causing his withdrawal from the world 
to make more earnest preparation for eternity. His constitu- 
tion was a mere wreck, but ample proof was afforded that the 
vigour of his powerful intellect was unimpaired. 

The Jansenists formed a sect within the church of Rome, 
who approached in many respects towards the reformed churches. 
The general reader may judge with tolerable accuracy of their 
position by looking at those church-of-England ministers who 
venture to think more of the church of Christ than of their own 
church ; who remain within its boundaries, while they deplore 
its withering formality; who conscientiously subscribe its ar- 
ticles and its creeds, and long for the " times of reformation " 
to relieve them from pernicious shackles ; although they do not 
see it right to cast away their cords by avowed union with those 
who, unfettered by worldly and carnal restrictions, are serving 
God in the propagation of truth without episcopal permission. 
Ceteris paribus — such were the Jansenists. And whereas the 
few Calvinists of the present day, whose consciences must settle 
the matter as to how they can fill their anomalous position 
hi the church, think it necessary to be strenuous in loud pro- 
fessions of exclusive devotion to her fold, so these Jansenists, 
while they widely departed from the fashionable standard of 
orthodoxy in their own communion, deprecated the name of 
heretics, and were fierce in their opposition to the poor Hu- 
guenots. To this section Pascal attached himself, and was on 
intimate terms with those pious and learned members who had 
established themselves in the wilds of Port Royal. 

The Jansenists came into collision with their great enemies 
the Jesuits, by the opinions they held on the subjects of grace 
and free will. As the controversy proceeded, the points of dif- 
ference between the contending parties became more marked 
and more numerous, The rigid system of morals, taught and 

c c 



434 CORPOREAL MORTIFICATION. 

observed by the Jansenists, and the superior regard which they 
paid to personal holiness in comparison with ceremonial wor- 
ship, appeared in advantageous contrast with the lax morality 
and formal religion of the Jesuits. Hence at one time they 
could reckon among their number many of the most enlight- 
ened, as well as the most ornamental, christians of France. 
Pascal believed this party to be in earnest, while a deep sleep 
seemed to have fallen upon the others. The papal court, of 
course, must needs look with an evil eye on these conscientious 
professors ; but the difficulty of dealing with them was increased, 
as their own great man, Augustin, entertained the same senti- 
ments. At this time Arnauld, a Jansenist, published a letter ; 
and while the doctors of the Sorbonne were in deliberation on 
this heretical effusion, Pascal issued, under the name of Louis 
de Montalte, a series of letters to a friend in the country. With 
just sarcasm, he derided the musty old doctors, and with the 
same powerful weapon he covered the Jesuits with contempt. 
Notwithstanding their rejoinders, endeavouring to smother the 
able author in clouds of learned dust and enormous vitupera- 
tion, the credit of the Jesuits sunk under the blow inflicted by 
the genius of Pascal, whose work has left him entitled to the 
very highest rank in French literature. 

He had formed a design even in the height of scientific 
ardour, to execute some great work for the benefit of religion, 
and in retirement set about a comprehensive book on the Evi- 
dences of Christianity. The completion of this mighty under- 
taking was prevented by increasing bodily infirmities ; but the 
fragments, written on scraps of paper, were collected together, 
and, after his death, given to the world as the Thoughts of 
Pascal. The varied stores of this beautiful performance have 
proved a rich fund whence christian writers have constantly 
borrowed. Voltaire taunted the religious with Pascal's brain 
having been turned by the accident on the bridge ! The answer 
is that, that brain afterwards produced not only these Thoughts, 
but the Provincial Letters, and various other treatises, the last 
being written shortly before his death. With a great degree 
of playfulness, Pascal always cautiously avoided hurting any 
one's feelings ; and so strictly conscientious was he that, having 
ever before his eyes the privations and sufferings of others, he 
curtailed his own enjoyments, that he might the better be ena- 
bled to perform the duties of charity. He never became disen- 
tangled wholly from the thraldom of popery, and, in rejecting 
the pleasures of life, became a humble devotee; frequently 
wearing an iron girdle, with sharp points towards the skin, that, 
in thus mortifying himself by the infliction of pain on his body, 
he might banish vain thoughts which warred against his holy 
meditations. This exemplary and extraordinary character died 



THE ILLUSTRIOUS THEATRE. 435 

at Paris, Aug. 19, 1662, aged 39. Although hating his religion, 
Voltaire considered him as the first satirist against the Jesuits, 
and Boileau said that his performance was a model of eloquence 
and wit, equal to the finest comedies of Moliere, and possessed 
of the sublimity of the best of Bossuet's Orations. 

John Baptist Pocqjjelin de Moliere, born at Paris about 
1620 or 1622 (for his biographers do not agree), the son of the 
tapestry-maker to the court, was intended for the same business. 
His education was neglected ; a taste for plays was fostered by 
frequent visits to the spectacle, and abilities of a high order, that 
might otherwise have proved of greater benefit to his fellow 
men, became chiefly devoted to their amusement Though late, 
some efforts w T ere made for his education by his becoming a pu- 
pil of the Jesuits at the college of Clermont. There he remained 
five years, and had the fortune to become the class-fellow of 
Armand de Bourbon, Prince de Conti, whose protection he en- 
joyed through life. Under the independent reasoning of his 
tutor, Gassendi, young Pocquelin acquired a habit of pushing 
forward his inquiries, and his after productions evinced the ex- 
tensive knowledge he attained. As well as tapestry-maker, his 
father was a valet-de-chambre about the court ; and, accord- 
ing to the pernicious custom then prevalent, whether in higher 
or lower departments, young Pocquelin held the reversion of 
these places. When Louis XIII. went to Narbonne in 1641, the 
old man was ill, and the young one was obliged to officiate for 
him. On his return to Paris, his passion for the stage revived 
with renewed strength; a general taste, too, for theatrical per- 
formances was communicated to the nation at large through the 
patronage of Richelieu. Many little knots of stage-struck he- 
roes formed themselves into private companies, and our author 
himself collected together a small company of idlers who adopted 
the pompous title of* The Illustrious Theatre." He determined 
to devote himself to this profession, and, changing his name, 
took that of Moliere. 

After the termination of the civil wars had restored compa- 
rative quiet to France, in companionship with an actress of 
Champagne, named La Bejard, he collected together a set of 
scamps, called actors, who were dignified by being enrolled into 
a " company;" they operated on a regular piece of Moliere's, called 
TEtourdi, or the Blunderer. The celebrity of this assemblage 
was such as to frustrate the endeavours of a rival band of sons 
of Belial, who, gradually deserting the " old established concern," 
stole away one by one to the fresh adventurers. Escaping the 
clutches of the constables, who, according to the wholesome sta- 
tute laws of England, should have taken them up, and had them 
flogged, as rogues and vagabonds, at the cart's tail, the united 
" company" transferred themselves with all their valuables to 



436 AWFUL DEATH. 

Languedoc, where the vicious Prince of Conti took them under 
his very suitable patronage. Remaining during the summer, 
these vagrants brought out their tarnished lace and tawdry 
spangles at Grenoble ; thence they proceeded to Rouen. Going 
to Paris, Moliere was introduced to Monsieur, and ultimately 
to the king. 

In the hall of the guards, at the Old Louvre, these creatures 
performed before Louis, who gave orders for their permanent 
settlement at Paris, ordering a large annual payment to be made 
to the leader, no doubt, thinking it a very suitable adjunct to 
his palace. In 1665, two years afterwards, this persecutor of 
protestants, and patron of players, took the band of professi- 
onals under his more immediate service, as " the king's com- 
pany." Feeling insuperable disgust at being compelled to turn 
from the record of ennobling pursuits and dignifying delights, 
as in the case of the distinguished Pascal, to mention such be- 
dizened fools, — there I shall leave them, in very congruous 
fraternity. As for Moliere himself, within 15 years he produced 
more than 30 pieces, characterised more or less by an union of 
genius and art ; and to him has been assigned this praise, that 
he was the happy instrument of reproving that vain and fan- 
tastical people. As in the case of " Les Precieuses Ridicules," 
doing much towards rooting out an unreasonable and ridiculous 
taste, then very prevalent among a nation whose morals were 
materially influenced by the stage. A criticism of the writings 
of this noted dramatist would be as foreign to my abilities as 
counter to my inclinations. Voltaire calls Moilere the best 
comic poet of any nation. The general shaping of his plots, 
the connection of his scenes, the dramatic propriety he manifests, 
have been attempted by subsequent writers, but who, asks ano- 
ther of his biographers, could compete with him in wit and spirit ? 
Severe lessons were read by many of his pieces, and he was 
very powerful in lashing the clergy for their follies and vices. 
His marriage is said to have been under dreadful circumstances 
of atrocity ; indeed, if we look at the lives of these actors, of 
how small account is their vivacity and pretended exposures of 
vice in others ! 

His last piece was entitled " Le Malade Imaginaire;" the 
fourth time of its acting was Feb. 17, 1673. The principal cha- 
racter represented is that of a rich man, who pretends to be 
dead. The author himself played this part, and at the time he 
should have got up, it is said, he was not feignedly, but actually, 
dead ! This is disputed, and the tale, as given by others, runs 
that, though seized with alarming illness, he was able to finish the 
play; but went home, was put to bed, a vessel burst in his lungs, 
and he was suffocated with blood in about half an hour. He was 
in the 52nd year of his age when this event took place, which, 



FRENCH SUELIME. 437 

said Dr. Johnson, of Garrick's death, and well did he say it, 
" eclipsed the gaiety of nations." The clergy refused to bury 
him ; not because of his immoralities, nor on account of the 
stringency of laws against scenic representations, but because 
he had so ably exposed those hypocrites of the cloth. How- 
ever, Louis XIV. sent to the Archbishop of Paris ; and the 
clergy rendered obedience due to their head, by paying decent 
respect to the insensible remains of the player. During his life 
he had frequently been in danger of assassination from some 
of the ecclesiastics. His widow, a woman of loose reputation, 
married another of the sock and buskin tribe, named Guerin, 
and was living at the age of 92 in 1728. 

Peter Corneille, the celebrated French poet, born at 
Rouen, June 6, 1606, was a very different personal character to 
the foregoing. Having been brought up to the bar, he soon 
abandoned a calling not congenial to his feelings. Fontenelle 
records that the vein of his genius was discovered by the fol- 
lowing affair : one of his friends had introduced to Corneille 
his intended wife; and the lady, without any imputation of 
treachery on the part of the supplanter, took such a fancy to 
him as led to her jilting her introducer. Corneille moulded 
his embarrassment into a comedy called " M elite." _Up to this 
time the theatre had been little attended in France ; however, 
the popularity of this piece attracted so much notice that Cor- 
neille was, encouraged still farther to contribute to the public 
gratification. His first tragedy was " Medea. 77 With national 
vanity, Fontenelle observes that " he took flight at once, and 
soared instantly to the sublime ! " After many others, appeared 
the " Cid," which has been so well received as to be found trans- 
lated into most European languages. This piece entailed upon 
our author the persecution of rival wits and unsuccessful poets. 
Little is recorded of CorneiUVs personal history; that little 
represents him a man of great merit in private life, liberal, 
humane, and devout, moreover of rather a melancholy cast. He 
spoke little in company, even on subjects which his pursuits 
had made his own. Pere Bonaventure d'Ayounne says that, 
the first time he saw him, " he took him for a tradesman of 
Rouen; and that his conversation was so heavy as to be ex- 
tremely tiresome if it lasted long." An able biographer winds 
up his record by saying that, "whatever might be the outward 
coarseness or dulness of the man, he was mild of temper in his 
family, a good husband, parent, and friend. His worth and 
integrity were unquestionable; nor had his connection with the 
court, of which he was not fond, taught him that art of cring- 
ing so necessary to fortune and promotion. Hence reputation 
was almost the only advantage accruing to him from his pro- 
ductions." He was chosen a member of the French academy 



438 GREAT ABSENCE OF MIND. 

in 1647, and was dean of that society at the time of his death, 
which took place in 1684, in his 79th year. His works have 
been often printed, and consist of more than 30 plays — trage- 
dies and comedies. 

John de la Fontaine, another great poet, was born at 
Chateau Thierry, July 8, 1621. After a liberal education, he 
was admitted at 19 years of age among the fathers of the Oratory. 
He married early, but soon quitted his wife with indifference 
to follow his patroness, the Duchess of Bouillon, to Paris. Here 
he procured a pension, and became gentleman to Henrietta 
of England, after whose death he was received into the house 
of the witty Madame de la Sabliere, who jocosely observed, in 
parting with her household, that she only kept three animals, 
her dog, her cat, and her La Fontaine. In the company of this 
learned lady he continued about 20 years, not, however, without 
paying annually formal visits to his neglected wife. This great 
genius was really almost fit to be placed under a keeper, as he 
was unqualified for the common concerns and duties of life. One 
day, meeting his own son without knowing him, he observed 
that he was a youth of parts and spirit ; on being told he was his 
own son, he replied, with unconcern, I am really glad of it. 
He asked some divines one day, with the greatest simplicity, if 
St. Augustin had more wit than Rabelais. His unusual absence, 
created by the indulgence of his reveries and poetical ideas, 
often led him to say and to do the most unbecoming things. 
On his death-bed, when the priest reminded him that his tales 
had an evil tendency, and were frequently licentious, and there- 
fore hostile to good morals, La Fontaine acknowledged the im- 
putation, and promised amendment. Though not himself a li- 
bertine, he had been most indifferent to religion, and he informed 
the priest that he had the New Testament, which he thought a 
tolerably good book. He died April 13, 1695, and it is said a 
horse-hair shirt was found upon him, which some considered 
a proof of his repentance. Voltaire says he was the only great 
man of the age who did not partake of the generosity of 
Louis XIV., to which he had certainly claims on account both 
of his merit and poverty. His fables surpass any thing that 
was ever written of that kind in any language whatsoever. 

John Racine, the illustrious French poet, was born at Ferte- 
Milon in 1639, and educated at Port Royal, where his abilities 
soon expanded in a remarkable degree. He made astonishing 
progress in the attainment of Greek and Latin ; and was noticed 
for an excessive fondness for Euripides and Sophocles. Going 
to Paris, he wrote some adulatory verses on the marriage of 
Louis XIV., which produced praise from the courtiers, and more 
substantial marks of approbation from the young king, in the 
shape of a pension for life. He proceeded to write many plays, 



LOUIS' LOVE OF SERMONS. 439 

one of which, u Phcedra," published in 1677, caused a cabal to 
be raised against the poet, and a comparatively obscure writer, 
named Pradon, was urged to produce a Pkcedra, to oppose the 
noble composition of Racine. The poet was exasperated, and 
in disgust formed the design of becoming a Carthusian friar. 
He had formerly worn the ecclesiastical habit at Port Royal ; but 
his confessor, in this instance, with commendable sincerity, pre- 
vailed upon him to marry, and, instead of bidding adieu to the 
world, to become one of its most useful and honourable mem- 
bers. He followed the advice, and became the father of seven 
children. He never more would write for the theatre, but, at 
the instance of Madame de Maintenon, he produced Esther, to 
be acted by the young ladies at her seminary of St. Cyr. He 
wrote a memorial on the miseries of the poor, and lent it to Ma- 
dame de Maintenon, so that it fell into the hands of the king, 
who expressed his indignation at the presumption of the poet. 
Racine heard of the royal displeasure, and was so terrified that 
he fell into a fever ; and, though Louis was kindly inquisitive 
after his welfare, he died in 1699. He was a voluminous and 
most able writer. 

Jacques Benigne Bossuet, whose father and ancestors 
were honourably distinguished in the profession of the law, was 
born at Dijon, Sept. 27, 1627. He was placed in childhood at 
the college of the Jesuits in his native town ; and, at the age of 
15, he removed to the college of Navarre, at Paris. At both 
places his surprising progress caused him to pass for a prodigy ; 
and, soon after his arrival at Paris, he was invited to preach at 
the hotel De Rambouillet, his performance being received with 
great approbation. In 1652 he was ordained priest, and soon 
was made successively canon, archdeacon, and dean, in the ca- 
thedral church of Metz. He here published his Refutation of 
the Catechism of Paul Ferri, a protestant divine of repute ; this 
being the first of a series of controversial writings, at a time when 
great expectations were entertained of the conversion of the 
protestants, which distinguished Bossuet even more than his 
other works. This publication recommended him to the notice 
of Anne of Austria, which drew him frequently to court, where 
his eloquence attracted the attention of people of refinement 
and taste. He was afterwards summoned to preach before 
Louis XIV., who expressed, in a letter to the preacher's father, 
the great delight he felt at hearing Bossuet's sermons ; for such 
was the versatility of that monarch that parsons, prostitutes, 
poets and players, ministers or mistresses, successively excited 
his admiration, and that perhaps within the same hour. But 
that which established him in the most christian king's favour 
was the conversion of the great Turenne, whether from a Gallio- 
like indifference to "forms of faith," or from conviction pro- 



440 bossuet's exposition. 

duced in the soldier's mind by the preacher's well known Expo- 
sition written 1668, and published 1671. 

The Archbishop of Paris requested his interference in one of 
the many disputes created by the papal decrees against the te- 
nets of Jansenius. The nuns of Port Royal were attached to Jan- 
senism, and were required to subscribe the celebrated formulary 
that selected for condemnation five propositions said to be con- 
tained in a certain extensive work of Jansenius. Those excellent 
women modestly submitted that they were ready to accept any 
doctrine propounded by the church — (one would have thought 
this submissive enough even for " rubricians") — and they would 
even affix their names to the condemnation of the obnoxious 
propositions ; but that they could not assert these propositions 
were to be found in a book they had never seen. In this diffi- 
culty, the renowned Bossuet stept in, wrote a long letter to the 
refractory nuns, highly commended for its acute logic. But both 
logic and divinity were probably thrown away on those for whom 
they were intended ; however there was one part of the letter 
sufficiently intelligible. He congratulated them on their total 
exemption from all obligation to examine, and from the task of 
self-guidance ; assuring them that it was their duty, as well as 
their happy privilege, to subscribe and assent to all which was 
placed before them by authority. But the nuns were not con- 
vinced. Escaping for the present, they in the end paid dearly 
for their passive resistance to the decision of Pope Alexander VII. 
on a matter of fact. 

In 1669, Bossuet was promoted to the bishopric of Condom, 
which he resigned the following year on being appointed to the 
important office of preceptor to the dauphin. This insignificant 
prince, whose name is rarely mentioned in the history of the 
period, except where French inflation leads Voltaire to felicitate 
Louis on having a son equal to the carrying out of his father's 
grand views, we have seen, earned the distinction of weasel- 
catcher the great. Of a mean and sordid disposition, Bossuet's 
efforts proved worse than a waste of power; and, although the 
world is debtor to this prince for the drawing forth of his tutor's 
splendid abilities in several of his best performances, his Intro- 
duction to Universal History has been thought to indicate that 
Bossuet was not peculiarly fitted for his office, it having been 
prepared expressly for the use of his renowned pupil. During his 
connection with the court, a conference took place with Claude, 
a protestant, under these circumstances: — Mademoiselle de 
Duras, a niece of Turenne, had conceived scruples respecting the 
soundness of her protestant principles, from perusing Bossuet's 
" Exposition." She consulted M. Claude, who engaged to re- 
solve her doubts in the presence of Bossuet : the challenge was 
accepted. The statements of both parries, without attributing 



bossuet's mild disposition, 441 

intentional misrepresentation to either, did not agree in record- 
ing this discussion, which ended, as such matters generally ter- 
minate, so far as the disputants themselves were concerned. As 
to the fair querist, she followed the steps of her uncle. 

In 1681, Bossuet closed his duties with the dauphin, when 
he was rewarded with the bishopric of Meaux. In this neces- 
sarily short memoir, there is danger lest the eminence of this 
divine should be obscured by the reader's conceiving that he was 
merely a kind of ecclesiastical prize-fighter. To his praise there- 
fore it must be told that, while he could, with such uncommon 
ability, wield the pen of the polemic, he could manifest the same 
energy and zeal in his diocesan duties, and act the part of a 
devout and affectionate pastor. From the quiet performance of 
these peaceful duties he was dragged by Louis to open and assist 
the famous general assembly of the church, met together in 1682, 
in consequence of a threatening brief issued by Innocent XII. 
In his introductory discourse, Bossuet is considered to have re- 
vealed some marks of that embarrassment which may readily 
be supposed engendered by his sense of the awful majesty of 
kings in general, and his veneration and gratitude for Louis 
in particular, with the almost undefinable and unimaginable 
allegiance due to his spiritual head. So that he attempted to 
extricate himself by the loftiest panegyrics on the monarchs of 
France, while, in a parallel line, he ran along the vast dignity 
of the church, and the supremacy of St. Peter. The question at 
the conference was determined in favour of the king ; the decla- 
ration was drawn up by the bishop of Meaux himself; the pope 
was displeased, and the decision fiercely attacked by the Trans- 
alpine divines, who twitted Bossuet with having forgotten his 
spiritual allegiance in subserviency to his temporal master. Un- 
wearied, however, he drew forth fresh arrows from his quiver, 
and, in a fresh attack upon the protestant churches, produced 
that which remains, in the opinion of Roman Catholics, to this 
day, unsurpassed as an argument against protestantism. 

Himself not of a cruel disposition — indeed, who can look 
upon that noble form, that mild, benignant and expressive coun- 
tenance, and attribute severity to intuitive principles ! — we find 
with sorrow that he justifies the attempts of Louis to bring about 
religious conformity in theory ; while his own practice towards 
protestants secured the praise even of his opponents. He en- 
deavoured by a comprehensive scheme to effect a restoration of 
the catholic fold, not only of the Huguenots, but of the European 
Lutherans. On the side of the protestants, Leibnitz and Mola- 
nus communicated with Bossuet. A correspondence was carried 
on for 10 long years, which ended in securing praise for the 
christian spirit of the disputants, exemplified in a degree not 
common in theological warfare ; and leaving the question, and 

c c 5 



442 MADAME GUYON'S MYSTICISM. 

the two great parties, just where they were before all this pole- 
mical ammunition was expended. The bishop is considered to 
have herein sustained a defeat. In the coining sketch of Fenelon, 
mention must be made of a mysticism revived under the name 
of quietism, chiefly through Madame Guy on, a friend of the 
Bishop of Meaux. In the capacity of universal referee in reli- 
gious affairs, Bossuet w T as deputed to examine her doctrines, 
which he began to do with his usual mildness. Fenelon partly 
adopted the views of this weak woman ; Bossuet insisted on his 
yielding up his feelings and opinions. 

Fenelon would not yield ; Bossuet was irritated, and attacked 
his opponent in print. To the pope these otherwise great men 
carried their differences, and there should they have been left. 
His holiness appointed a council to examine the matter, and 
Bossuet lost himself by anticipating intrigues and vehement re- 
monstrances, with the intention of forcing them into a favour- 
able decision. The usual plea is all that is set up in his defence, 
that plea which has shed rivers of blood, and extenuated num- 
berless and unheard-of atrocities — a disinterested zeal for re- 
ligion. He triumphed — and sunk ! He followed Madame Guyon 
with cruel persecution in the Bastille, w T hen, as a lunatic, she 
should have been consigned to the tender care of a merciful 
and judicious keeper. This lady, Johanna Mary Bouviers de la 
Mothe Guyon, was of a noble family, and born at Montargis in 
1648. She wished to take the veil, but her friends made her 
marry ; she became a w T idow at the age of 28. Abandoning the 
care of her family, she devoted herself to the mysteries of quiet- 
ism, which Michael de Molinos, a Spanish Jesuit at Rome, had 
imposed upon the credulity of the world. Wavering in her 
opinions, and inconstant in her temper, she, however, endured 
persecution for her tenets. At one time, so numerous were her 
followers — and a congregation seems never w r anting to the pre- 
tenders to supernatural missions — that the peace of the king- 
dom was threatened. She declared herself the pregnant woman 
mentioned in the Apocalypse. She died at Blois in 1717. Her 
reveries, which w r ould pass for insane nonsense but for the blas- 
phemy, were got together, and, with her verses, published in 
five volumes. 

The foregoing sketch can but imperfectly convey an idea of 
the extended authority the Bishop of Meaux wielded in the Gal- 
lican church. Many of his works place him in a distinguished 
position among historians, orators, and theologians ; but that 
w T hich I mentioned as more immediately prepared for the dau- 
phin, without the discount from praise sometimes necessarily 
deducted by a reference to the age in w T hich a work is performed, 
stands forth, on its own merits, as a noble effort of a comprehen- 
sive and penetrating mind. His Funeral Orations excited the 



EDIFYING END OF BOSSUET. 443 

adulation ever, of Voltaire ; and the English reader may find 
frequent rewards, in unsurpassable passages of real eloquence, 
for having often to wade through cold and inflated passages of 
French sublime. He is justly censurable for sparing the rod ; 
he is not guiltless of debasing flattery of the great ; he is charge- 
able with occasional, perhaps frequent, distortion of facts to pro- 
duce effect. For instance, after the calamitous, and even awful, 
death of Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, whose notorious private 
laxity might have suggested to her friends the old and homely 
adage that the least said is the soonest mended, our florid 
bishop holds her forth as an exquisite specimen of female worth, 
the glory of France (chough, by the bye. an Englishwoman), 
whom heaven, in transplanting, had presented as a precious and 
inestimable gift to the French nation ! 

Nor is the bishop free from the more serious charge of dis- 
simulation, in carrying what the old divines rather heavily called 
" moral suasion" beyond the verge of truth, in his pencillings 
of the beauties of Romanism, to entrap the weaker protestants. 
But the charge of his general insincerity seems untenable, nor 
can it be believed that his opponents were justified in asserting 
that he held opinions in private diametrically opposed to those 
he publicly professed. He had powers of mind of the highest 
order : whatsoever he might have longed for, he seems never to 
have struggled to be free ; and it sti ikes me that the celebrated 
Bishop of Meaux exhibits the papal religion in a peculiarly un- 
favourable point of view, in whose person it could turn a kind 
and gentle spirit into a persecutor ; and repress the energies of 
a first-rate mind to contentment with spiritual subservience to a 
conclave his conduct showed he despised ; and in temporals could 
turn a master spirit into a ready, if a polished, court tool. He 
maintained his activity to the last ; and we are delighted to find 
his ceaseless companion was his bible, and his last literary 
labour a Commentary on the 23rd Psalm. He died April 12, 
1704, in the 76th year of his age. 

Louis Boukdaloue, a Jesuit, born at Bourges, Aug. 1632, was 
deservedly celebrated as the most eloquent preacher of France. 
His powers were exhibited before the court of Louis XIV., 
and the monarch so strongly felt and admired the efficacy of 
his eloquence that, on the revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
he sent him to preach the catholic doctrines to the new con- 
verts of Languedoc. His sermons have passed through several 
editions. He died May 13, 1704, aged 72. Voltaire says, "he 
was one of the first who displayed in the pulpit an uniform 
masculine eloquence : he was a new light to the age. We have 
had other pulpit orators since, such as father Massillon, who 
have thrown more graces into their sermons, and embellished 
them with finer and more masterly paintings of life and man- 



444 FENELON S HATRED OF PERSECUTION. 

ners ; but not one of these have obliberated his merit- In his 
style, more nervous than florid, and which seems to despise the 
tinsel ornaments of a glowing imagination, he labours rather to 
convince than inflame, and never amuses himself with the vain 
ambition of pleasing." 

Nicholas Boileau-Despreaux, the celebrated poet, was 
born at Crone, near Paris, in November 1636. He early lost 
his mother, and the care of his infancy was entrusted to a female 
servant, who treated him with harshness. His father, who left 
him an orphan before he was 17, had not formed the most pro- 
mising expectations of Nicholas ; but his dulness disappeared 
as he approached to maturity. He began to study law, but not 
liking that, he turned to divinity, and Voltaire says, " disliking 
these two chicanes," he then entered the field of literature, 
where he acquired eminence and fame. His works were so 
numerous, both in poetry and prose, and are so well known, 
that any eulogy here would be superfluous, as he has deserv- 
edly obtained the applause of every man of genius and taste. 
Not only do his countrymen boast of the superior effusions of 
his muse, but foreigners feel and admire the graces, the strength, 
and harmony of his verse. After enjoying the favours of his 
sovereign, and all the honours which the French academy, and 
other societies, could bestow, Boileau retired from public life, 
dissatisfied with the insincerity of the world, and that profligacy 
of manners which he had satirized with spirit and truth ; he 
spent his time in literary privacy, and died, an example of great 
resignation and piety, March 2, 1711. 

Francois de Salignac de Lamothe Fenelon was born 
August 6, 1651, at the castle of Fenelon, of a noble and ancient 
family in the province of Perigord. He was sent to the semi- 
nary of St. Sulpice, then lately founded in Paris for educating 
young men for the church. The youngster was not allured by 
the glittering bauble of a mitre ; he early contemplated being a 
useful missionary, to spread the glad tidings of the gospel among 
North American savages, or teaching Mahometans and Greeks 
the way of salvation. Circumstances, however, detained him at 
home, and for several years he fulfilled the parochial duties of 
St. Sulpice. He became known first to Bossuet at the age of 
27, on being appointed superior of a society to convert females 
to the church of Rome ; and by his recommendation was sent to 
reclaim the protestants of Poitou from the error of their ways, 
in 1685, when the wicked Louis had inflicted such unheard of 
atrocities on those consistent and unoffending professors at the 
time of the dragonade. Fenelon insisted that the dragoons 
should be removed; he would sanction no cruelty, and was con- 
sequently himself marked and persecuted by the dominant 
powers. 



CLERICAL CONSISTENCY. 445 

The Duke de Beauvillers was a christian, though a courtier 
at that infamous court — at least, so it is said, though how he 
could continue in that den of iniquity is puzzling. However, he 
was appointed governor to the afterwards promising Duke of 
Burgundy ; and his first act was to make Fenelon preceptor to 
his royal charge, then, so early as his eighth year, distinguished 
for the frightful violence of his passions, his insolent demeanour, 
and his tyrannical spirit. Having an affectionate heart, and a 
quick sense of shame, Fenelon soon gained his love and confi- 
dence, and taught him the christian's method of self government. 
His headstrong pupil was subdued by the fear of God. In point 
of book-learning the task of Fenelon was lighter ; for the duke 
was of prompt intelligence, and if royal pupils generally astound 
us by reported precocity, it really appears that this estimable 
youth did make rapid progress in useful and substantial acquire- 
ments. In 1694, Fenelon was presented to the abbey of St. Va- 
lery, and two years afterwards to the archbishopric of Cam bray. 
He resigned the abbey upon conscientious objections to plurali- 
ties — laughed at as a fool by his brethren : the Archbishop of 
Rheims said, " with his sentiments, Fenelon does right in resign- 
ing his benefice, and I, with my sentiments, do very right in keep- 
ing mine." This seems to be the favoured axiom in all ages 
and churches established by law. It was the last mark of royal 
favour extended to Fenelon. To say that Louis was never cor- 
dially his friend is unnecessary ; for how could that haughty, de- 
ceitful, and abandoned profligate be the friend of the virtuous 
and religious ? No, there was no room for Fenelon ; but the 
vile stage players and strumpets were sumptuously entertained — 
room was found for fiddlers and flatterers — but this man, the 
pride and ornament of his age and nation, was not fit to adorn 
the court ! 

In a recent page I told my reader something about the sect 
called " Quietists :" it seemed to spring up amidst the factions 
of the Calvinists, the controversies between the Jesuits and the 
Jansenists, as a sort of off-shoot of the human mind ; and, in vain 
efforts to pass beyond the boundaries of our knowledge, perhaps 
afforded some proof that farther advances, at any rate, were to 
be made. Its absurdity was still such that its memory would 
have been obliterated but for the disputations of eminent men. It 
derives importance from the part the illustrious subject of this 
memoir took in the dispute. One La Combe, of Geneva, a Bar- 
nabite (who it may be as well here at once to state died in a 
mad-house), was the spiritual director of Madame Guyon. He 
was noted for a medley of passions and religion, and impregnated 
this silly woman's brain with the extravagance which indeed 
she had before partially imbibed. Together they went to the 
territory where the Bishop of Geneva resides, and she soon at- 



446 FEMALE FANATICISM. 

tracted notice by her extensive charities, and her entire self re- 
nunciation. She preached up the tranquillity of the soul, the 
annihilation of all its faculties, inward worship, and pure dis- 
intested love, neither moved by fear, nor animated by the hope 
of reward. Alarmed by the number of her converts, the bishop 
drove her and her confessor away, and they retired to Grenoble, 
where she published a piece, called the " Short Way" ; but she 
was soon obliged to depart thence. 

Now, imagining she had visions, she began to prophesy : 
" All hell,' , said she, " shall unite to stop the progress of the in- 
ward spirit and the formation of Jesus Christ in souls. The 
storm shall be such that not one stone shall remain upon ano- 
ther ; and I foresee that throughout the whole earth there will 
be troubles, wars, and revolutions. Woman shall be pregnant 
with the inward spirit, and the serpent shall stand up before 
her." Upon her return with Father la Combe to Paris, in 1687, 
M. de Chamvallon, Archbishop of Harlai, obtained an order from 
the king to confine La Combe as a seducer, and to shut up Ma- 
dame Guyon in a convent as a person of disordered mind. But 
by this time she had gained considerable interest, a cousin, nam- 
ed Madame de la Maison Fort, being a great favourite of Mde. 
Maintenon in St. Cyr. The Duchesses of Chevreuse and Beau- 
villers were also attracted by her rhapsodies. These ladies com- 
plained loudly that Harlai, noted for his passion for women, 
should procure punishment to her confessor. Mdme. de Main- 
tenon soon silenced the archbishop, and caused Madame de 
Guyon to be set at liberty ; she then went to St. Cyr, where, 
after having dined with Madame de Maintenon, she added one 
more to the religious meetings held by Fenelon. 

The Princess of Harcourt, with the Duchesses of Chevreuse, 
Beauvillers, and Charot, also belonged to this pious society. 
For this part of Fenelon's memoir, I am taking what I consider 
most suitable from Voltaire ; that interesting writer says. Fenelon 
was the most charming man about the court : he had naturally 
a tender heart, with a sweet and lively imagination, and his mind 
had been cultivated with letters. He was a man of taste, had 
many amiable qualities, and preferred the affecting and sublime, 
in divinity, to that which was gloomy and difficult. Besides, he 
had a certain romantic turn of mind, which inspired him, not 
with the reveries of Madame Guyon, but with such ideas of spi- 
rituality as were not very unlike those of that lady. His imagi- 
nation was heated with candour and virtue, as others are in- 
flamed by their passions. Seeing in Madame Guyon a soul 
fraught with notions similar to his own, without hesitation, he 
joined with her. It was strange, says Voltaire, that he should 
be thus led away by a woman who pretended to reveal mys- 
teries, to prophesy, and other jargon ; who was almost choked 



SATANIC DELUSIONS. 447 

with inward grace, so that she was forced to get unlaced, as she 
said ; and who divested herself of all superabundance of grace, 
in order the more to increase her religious votaries. But Fe- 
nelon, in his friendship and mystical notions, was as a person in 
love : he excused the faults, and became attached to that con- 
formity of sentiments with which he had been taken. 

Madame Guyon, elevated and emboldened by the acquisition 
of such a disciple, whom she called her son, and reckoning upon 
Madame de Maintenon, propagated her notions in St. Cyr, 
The bishop, in whose diocese that palace stands, was alarmed, 
and loudly complained ; and the Archbishop of Paris threatened 
to renew his former proceedings. Madame de Maintenon, in- 
tending St. Cyr for a peaceful abode, and knowing how opposed 
the king was to all novelty, having no occasion to put herself 
at the head of a sect to gain influence, in short having her own 
credit and repose solely in view, now broke off all commerce 
with Madame Guyon, and discharged her from St. Cyr. Fene- 
lon became uneasy, and advised his friend to put herself into 
the hands of the Bishop of Meaux ; she accordingly submitted 
herself to the decisions of this prelate, and, after having re- 
ceived the sacrament from him, she gave up all her writings to 
his examination. He secured the king's permission to name 
De Noailles (afterwards cardinal), and Tronson, the superior of 
St. Sulpice, as his assistants in this affair, and they met at Issi, 
near Paris. 

The Archbishop of Paris, piqued that any other persons 
should set themselves up as judges within his diocese, imme- 
diately passed a public censure on the books they examined. 
Madame de Guyon retired to Meaux, subscribed to all the 
bishop demanded, and promised to dogmatise no more. Fene- 
lon had been promoted to the Archbishopric of Cambray in 
1695, and was consecrated by Bossuet. It might have been 
imagined that the late affair, being now dormant, and having 
been the subject of ridicule, would never be revived. But, as I 
have mentioned in the memoir of Bossuet, he turned persecut- 
ing in his spirit, and availing himself of Madame de Guyon's 
breach of promise to keep silence — for she broke out with fresh 
prophecies — the Bishop of Meaux procured an order to have 
her seized and confined in the prison of Vincennes. Here she 
amused herself by composing her phrensied verses, which were 
more wretched even than her prose ; and here she became more 
decidedly insane ; and, under Satanic delusion, blasphemously 
announced that she was married to Jesus Christ, and thence- 
forward never invoked saints, saying that the mistress of a family 
ought not to address herself to her domestics. It was now that 
Bossuet, jealous of Fenelon, and not disposed to relinquish su- 
premacy, required that the new archbishop should join with 



448 FENELON TOO LIBERAL. 

him in condemning Madame Guyon. Fenelon would sacrifice 
to him neither his friend nor his sentiments. Concessions were 
proposed, promises were mutually made, and each accused the 
other of breach of faith. When the archbishop departed for his 
diocese, he printed at Paris his " Maxims of the Saints," in 
which he endeavoured to obviate all that was objected against 
his friend, and to reveal the orthodox notions of devout con- 
templatists. Bossuet, and no wonder, exclaimed loudly against 
this extraordinary book, and complained of it to the king, as if, 
says Voltaire, it had been as dangerous as it was unintelligible. 
Throwing himself at the feet of the king, the universality of 
whose genius comprehended, it would seem, all knowledge, 
human and divine, Bossuet implored pardon for not having 
sooner denounced his friend. A consultation was held between 
Pere la Chaise, Madame de Maintenon, and Louis — the hesita- 
tion of which three renowned divines, caused a division of the 
public opinion — all society was in a fresh effervescence. Bos- 
suet wrote against Fenelon, and both decided to send their pro- 
ductions to the pope. Such was the influence of the Bishop of 
Meaux that Pere la Chaise could make no way against him ; 
for, as Bossuet was a Jansenist, the father, being a Jesuit, was 
glad of any weapon with which to foil his antagonist, and there- 
fore sided with Fenelon. The prudent De Maintenon, in the 
polemical storm, cared mainly for — herself, and thought it time 
wholly to abandon her friend Fenelon. A clue to her conduct 
is suggested by the assertion that, about this time, the wily 
Maintenon had almost prevailed on the king to declare his 
secret marriage with her, and that her wishes had been defeated 
by the powerful persuasion of Fenelon. From his post as tutor 
to the young princes, gaining intelligence of the scheme, he had 
thrown himself at his sovereign's feet, and put it in the strongest 
way to him to consult the honour of the crown of France, and 
that of his august family, by abstaining from an avowal which 
would injure his memory with posterity more than he could be 
recompensed by a transitory gratification. 

Other accounts state that Louis feared Fenelon might infuse 
into the mind of the Duke of Burgundy such principles of 
morals and government as might one day become an indirect 
censure upon that air of grandeur, that ambition for glory, 
those wars undertaken on the most frivolous occasions, and that 
taste for luxury and pleasures, which had characterized his own 
reign. The selfishness of the king and De Maintenon renders 
both tales extremely probable. The royal polemic sent for 
Fenelon, who, with the noble frankness of his estimable charac- 
ter, imparted to Louis as much of his notions as he thought the 
royal mind capable of comprehending. This utterer of fine 
periods afterwards said that, in talking with the Archbishop of 



TELEMACHUS. 449 

Camhray, he had conversed with the greatest, the most witty, 
and the most chimerical, genius in his kingdom — of w r hich he 
might have been as good a judge as was Dionysius of poetry ! 
It is due to the reputation of Fenelon to observe that he con- 
sidered the doctrine of Madame Guyon to be substantially the 
same with that of his favourite authors ; and whatsoever ap- 
peared exceptionable in her expositions he attributed to loose 
and exaggerated expressions natural to her sex and character. 

After Fenelon had submitted his book to the judgment of 
the pope, but before that judgment was pronounced, the king 
commanded the Archbishop of Cambray to retire to his diocese, 
which was in effect a kind of sentence of banishment. He bore 
this insolence and injustice with the habitual meekness he mani- 
fested, but his forbearance deprived him of none of his real 
weight ; and he lived in his diocese like a good archbishop and 
a man of letters. The inquisitors on Fenelon's book adjudged 
thirty-seven propositions to be erroneous ; and the pope con- 
demned them by a bull, published and fixed up in Rome, 
March 13, 1699. Fenelon submitted to the decision, debarred 
his friends from defending him, and himself ascended his epis- 
copal chair at Cambray to justify the pope's bull. If we are 
disposed as protestants to smile at this " kissing the rod," we 
should not forget that he was a sincere Roman Catholic ; and, 
w r hile we regret the thraldom in which such a mind was held, 
remember that, as a member of that extraordinary church, he 
was bound to recognise her infallibility. His resignation se- 
cured him the esteem and affection of Europe ; and when the 
English invaded that part of France in which stood his diocese, 
the Duke of Marlborough took especial care that his lands 
should be spared. He had written " Telemachus," that was 
mentioned at court before the printer had finished it ; and, al- 
though it had been sent to press with the royal license, orders 
were given shamefully to suppress it ; a few escaped the hands 
of the police, which were rapidly circulated. A printer at the 
Hague secured one, and as he could publish it without danger 
he did so. 

This affords another instance of the folly, as well as cruelty, 
of making martyrs. So eager had become the demand for 
" Telemachus' , that, with the utmost exertion, the press could 
hardly keep pace with the demand. Louis was easily persuaded 
to believe that the whole book was meant as a satire upon him- 
self, his court and government. Forgetting that it was impossi- 
ble to describe a good king, without reflecting indirectly upon 
the Grand Monar que ; and that enlightened views of government 
could not be held forth without exposing the evils of such a 
reign as under Louis eventually disgraced and impoverished the 
French people. Fenelon pursued the even tenour of his way in 



450 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE 

the faithful discharge of his episcopal duties ; he was select in 
his society ; his only recreation was a solitary walk in the fields, 
where it was his employment, he told a friend, to converse with 
his God. If in his rambles he fell in with any of the poorer 
part of his flock, he would sit down with them on the grass, 
and talk with them about their temporal, as well as their spiri- 
tual concerns ; and he would at other times visit them in their 
humble sheds, and partake of such refreshment as they offered 
him. At any rate, herein is a considerable contrast between the 
Anglican and the Gallican customs — not always in our favour. 
Who, that knows the state of society with us, can paint to his 
imagination the incumbent of an English benefice quietly seat- 
ed on the grass and in friendly converse beguiling the sorrows 
of one of his poor parishioners ! To say nothing of a dignitary 
of the church, to expect any converse with whom would turn 
the scale in the evidence before a commission de lunatico 
inquirendo. 

I once lived for five years in a country parish, where my 
window overlooked the two entrances to the noble residence of 
a " vicar." I constantly sat in the room, so that it was scarcely 
possible for a call to be made upon his reverence (who, by the 
bye, was a resident) without my witnessing the arrival. At the 
side gate, where the poor people went for tickets for charity, 
beggars to be relieved, &c, I certainly saw the extremely poor 
parishioners frequently approach to obtain relief, and I believe 
very seldom unsuccessfully. Excepting on one occasion, when 
there was some impediment in the lane, and when the two over- 
seers had some business with the exclusive vicar, I scarcely ever 
saw a parishioner venture near. It was forbidden ground; a 
great gulf was fixed between priest and people. Plenty of calls 
from the aristocracy of the neighbourhood ; but the whole sys- 
tem was, towards the people, respectable inhabitants, or humbler 
neighbours, " hitherto shalt thou come." And yet this clergy- 
man was a good man, highly, in most things, to be respected, 
though not to be loved ; honourable, high-minded in a better 
sense, and assiduous. But chilling all approaches of his flock 
with repulsive frigidity. 

I should not mention this, but that I fear it is the rule — not 
the exception ; and as exhibiting such a contrast with the amia- 
ble Archbishop of Cambray, and such other servants of God as 
have been and are enabled to follow their Lord in meekness and 
humiliation. Also to show that a cheerful absence from that 
unbecoming spirit of exclusiveness, too prevalent among the 
clergy, would tend infinitely more than all the ridiculous pranks 
of the " rubricians" to call back attachment to the venerable es- 
tablishment, that can never stand securely upon the cold respect 
ofithe people, without a large admixture of affection. Unless in 



ENGLISH AND FRENCH CLERGV. 451 

her ministers we can feel we have friends, who can rejoice when 
we rejoice, or sympathise with our sorrows. I write in a spirit 
of grief— not in taunting disrespect ; if to discharge my own 
mind, not with the Quixotic notion that one feeble instrument 
could do any thing to shake the starch out of their sleeves. 
" Now there is utterly a fault among you." 

In the exemplary discharge of his functions — in meekness, 
charity, and courtesy — did this eminent archbishop spend his 
remaining clays ; having abundant reason to bless God that the 
sensual and selfish king had banished him from his corrupt 
court. The Duke of Burgundy, however, always loved his tutor. 
V/e have witnessed the grief of the nation at the untimely re- 
moval of this prince, thus depriving the world of the longed-for 
opportunity of beholding the sceptre wielded by one so judi- 
ciously brought up, so beneficently instructed. The spright- 
liness of Fenelon's genius remained to old age ; on one occasion 
he perpetrated an impromptu to his nephew, the Marquis of 
Fenelon. Lulli, one of the chief musical composers of the day, 
had issued a pretty air, and to it (of course in French and 
adpted to the music) the grave archbishop found words ; they 
have been put into English — we will say nothing about poetry — 
thus : — 

" When young, I to wisdom aspired — 

And tnought myself wondrous wise : 
But, in age, find that all I've acquir'd 

Is to know man in ignorance dies." 

The result of the calumnies with which this great and good 
man was assailed seems to be the veneration of posterity that he 
refused to be a persecutor. Universal homage is awarded to 
him for his talents, which for brilliancy cf imagination, fertility 
and dexterity, rank him almost without a rival. But his supe- 
riority over Bossuet, as regards powerful grasp of intellect, may 
admit of a doubt. The good archbishop escaped from all his 
enemies, after a short illness and intense bodily suffering, which 
he supported by calling to mind the sufferings of his Saviour : 
he died February 7, 1715. No money was found in his coffers. 
The produce of the sale of his furniture, together with the ar- 
rears of rent due to him, were appropriated, by his direction, to 
charitable purposes. 

Bernard le Bovier de Fontenelle, the most universal 
genius which the age of Louis XIV. produced, according to Vol- 
taire, was born at Rouen in Feb. 1657, and, attaining the age of 
100, died Jan. 1757. He was the son of an advocate in the par- 
liament of Rouen, by a sister of the great poet Corneille. He 
was so weakly at his birth that it was not expected he could live, 
yet he recovered, and was never troubled with disease till his 
ninetieth year, when his eyes became dim and his hearing dull. 

E E 



452 FAMOUS FRENCH PREACHER. 

He was not, as a dramatic writer, equal to Corneille, but in his 
other pieces he displays great delicacy of wit and profoundness 
of thought. His " Plurality of Worlds" is considered a most 
fascinating performance, as conveying the sublimer truths of 
philosophy in a manner at once pleasing and refined. He wrote 
a " History of the Academy of Sciences," of which he was for 
40 years secretary. His " Eloges" on departed members are 
particularly delightful. He wrote many other important works. 
Of a mild and affable temper, he was sparing of personal enjoy- 
ments, that he might have to supply the needs of others. Nei- 
ther was he at all elevated by his superiority of talents. Origin- 
ally poor, he acquired by industry and economy an independent 
fortune. He was looked upon as the great master of the new 
art of treating of abstract sciences in a manner that made their 
study at once easy and agreeable; nor are any of his other 
works void of merit. All these natural parts were assisted by a 
knowledge of the languages and history; and he is considered 
to have surpassed all men of learning who have not had the gift 
of invention. 

Francis Joseph de Beaufroil, Marquis de St. Aulaire, 
a noted French poet, scarcely wrote anything till he was 60, 
and his best verses were not written till he was 90, years old. 
Voltaire says, that " Anacreon himself, when he was a great deal 
younger, wrote much worse things. If the Greek writers had 
been equal to our good authors, they would have been still more 
vain, and we should now applaud them with still more reason." 
He died in 1742, aged 102 years. 

Alain Rene le Sage, an ingenious writer, was born at 
Ruys in Brittany in 1667. His compositions display not only 
wit, taste, and judgment, but elegance and neatness. Though 
indebted for the plan and subject of his romances to Spanish 
writers, yet he possessed peculiar merits of his own. His works 
are Gil Bias, the Diable Boiteux, the Bachelier de Salamanque, 
the new Don Quixotte, and some theatrical pieces, also the 
letters of Aristensetus from the Greek. His Gil Bias is, and 
ever will be, a popular work, and must be read, because, as Vol- 
taire has said, he has therein imitated nature. He died near 
Paris 1747. 

John Baptist Massillon, the famous French preacher, was 
born at Hieres, in Provence 1663. He was admitted into the 
congregation of the oratory in 1681, and distinguished himself 
so much at Vienne by his funeral oration on Villars, the arch- 
bishop of that city, that he was called to Paris, where his elo- 
quence charmed and astonished crowded audiences. He was a 
preacher, says Voltaire, who knew the world better than most 
men. More flowery than Bourdaloue, he was more agreeable; 
and his eloquence at once savoured of the world, the court, and 



LITERARY EXASPERATION. 455 

the cloister. The court heard him with applause, and Louis XIV. 
concocted another of his set speeches to compliment the power- 
ful preacher: "I know not how it is," said the king, "father; 
when I hear other preachers, I go away much pleased with 
them ; but, whenever I hear you, I go away much displeased 
with myself." On one occasion, when discoursing on the very 
small number of the elect, his eloquence was so awfully striking 
that an involuntary murmur of applause arose in the congre- 
gation, and assisted the preacher more forcibly to convey his 
pathetic appeal. He was of a philosophical turn, moderate in 
his opinions, and favoured toleration. Uninfluenced by popu- 
larity, he followed his duty with modesty, but conscious dignity, 
and in 1717 was appointed by the regent Bishop of Clermont. 
In 1719 he was admitted member of the French academy; and 
after pronouncing his last oration, in Paris, on the Duchess of 
Orleans, in 1723, he retired to his diocese, where he presided 
with mildness, piety, and benevolence ; and lived till Septem- 
ber 1742, his eightieth year. 

John Baptist Rousseau, an eminent French poet, born at 
Paris, 1669. Though his father was ashoemaker, he received a 
decent education, and early displayed a strong and correct taste 
for poetry. In 1688, he went a page in the embassy to Den- 
mark, and thence passed to the English court as secretary to 
Marshal Tallard. Chiefly solicitous for the distinction of litera- 
ture, and indifferent about wealth, he refused various appoint- 
ments which would have rendered him independent, and was 
much gratified by now being enrolled member of the academy 
of inscriptions and belles-lettres. About this time some satirical 
verses, severe and grossly abusive, were produced as his own, 
and though he solemnly declared his innocence, and pronounced 
them forgeries invented by his enemies, he was tried by the 
parliament, and banished the kingdom. Voltaire says, " those 
stanzas which were the cause of his banishment, and which are 
like several that he owned, must either be imputed to him, or 
the two tribunals that pronounced sentence upon him must be 
dishonoured. Not that two tribunals, and even more numerous 
bodies, may not unanimously commit very great acts of injus- 
tice when the spirit of party prevails. There was a violent party 
against Rousseau. Few men have excited and felt the effects of 
hatred so much. The public were exasperated against him till 
his banishment, and even a few years after that. At length the 
success of La Motte, his rival, the favourable reception he had 
met with, his reputation, which was looked upon as usurped, 
the art with which he assumed a kind of despotic power in 
literature, all these things stirred up the men of learning against 
La Motte, and brought them back to Rousseau, from whom at 
that time they had nothing to fear;" and who at last retrieved 



454 END OF THE CHARACTERS 

the good will of the public. From France he went to Switzer- 
land, thence he passed to Baden, where he was much noticed 
by Prince Eugene, who took him to Vienna. In 1721 he came 
to England, where he published with great success his poems, 
in 2 volumes 4to. He returned to Paris incognito, in 1739, 
but went thence to the Hague, and was there attacked with 
apoplexy, and died March 17, 1741. His character was not 
well spoken of, as he was overbearing : he quarrelled with his 
patron Prince Eugene, and with the same levity and rudeness 
he affronted the Duke of Aremberg, who had kindly and liberally 
noticed him. In the vicissitudes exemplified both in La Motte 
and Rousseau, " we see the injustice of mankind, how men vary 
in their judgments, and what folly there is in being at a great 
deal of pains to gain their approbation," says Voltaire. 



According to the allowed calculation that the generations of 
mankind pass away on an average in about 20 or 25 years, I 
have thus conducted my reader through four of the most impor- 
tant in the annals of Europe. During this period a vast number 
of distinguished characters have passed before his eyes — verify- 
ing in a striking degree the scripture figure — " the procession of 
this world passeth away." If I have succeeded in any degree in 
producing a clear effect on his mind, while recording these great 
events, and exhibiting these important characters, moved about 
like the fantoccini on a mimic stage ; and if sufficient interest 
has been excited to leave a durable impression ; while my end 
will partly have been attained — I shall still have missed the 
main object, unless the great principles of justice and mercy 
have been exalted at the expense of wickedness, superstition, 
and persecution. I venture to trespass on the " gentle reader's" 
patience for a few more pages, that I may very briefly depict 
the consequences of these mighty conflicts, in which we have 
seen how human prudence and expectations were often defeat- 
ed ; and this weakness of human policy still more appeared after 
the peace of Utrecht than during the war. The good under- 
standing, and union between France and Spain, which had 
raised such apprehensions, and alarmed so many nations, was 
broken off as soon as Louis died. 

The Duke of Orleans formed a strict alliance with England, 
and came to an open rupture with that branch of the Bourbon 
family that reigned at Madrid. Philip V., who had renounced 
all pretensions to the crown of France by the late peace, raised, 
or rather gave the authority of his name to raise, seditions in 
France, whereby he was to be chosen regent, though he could 
not reign in France. Thus, after the death of Louis, all the 
views, negociations, and politics, took quite a different turn in 
his family, as well as amongst most of the princes of Europe. 



RECORDED IN THIS WORK. 455 

The regent, in concert with England, attacked Spain ; so that 
the first war of Louis XV. was undertaken against his uncle, 
whom Louis XIV. had settled on his throne at the expense of so 
much blood. During the course of this short war, the Spanish 
ministry designed to take advantage of the Duke of Savoy, who 
had likewise formed a somewhat similar scheme with regard to 
the emperor. The result of this chaos of intrigues was that the 
Spaniards deprived the emperor of Sardinia, and the Duke of 
Savoy of Sicily, in 1718. But France having defeated them by 
land, and the English by sea, they were forced to give up Sicily 
to the house of Austria ; and Sardinia was assigned to the Dukes 
of Savoy. 

Though peace was re-established in 1720, Philip V. no longer 
found happiness in the attachment of his people, but he became 
a prey to superstitious fears and melancholy suspicions. Under 
this terrible mental calamity, he resigned his crown, in 1724, in 
favour of his son Louis, and retired to a monastery ; but the 
sudden death of the new monarch a few months afterwards, by 
the small pox, left the kingdom without a master. Roused from 
his retirement, Philip resumed the reins of government; and 
the malady which had afflicted him having passed away, he 
became the watchful and affectionate father of his people. He 
died July 9, 1746, aged 63, after a reign of 45 years, and was 
succeeded by his eldest son, Ferdinand VI. 

Upon the death of Louis XIV., Madame de Maintenon 
retired to the privacy of St. Cyr, and, long fatigued with the 
splendour of greatness, which, while courted, flattered, and 
admired left in her mind a dismal vacuity, acknowledging the 
emptiness of all human distinction, she is recorded to have ended 
her days in penitence and devotion, on April 15,1719. 

Burnet, after he ceased to be about the court, retired to his 
diocese of Salisbury, and there devoted himself to improve the 
comforts of his clergy by augmenting poor livings, and in other- 
wise advancing the interests of religion. He died March 17, 
1715, aged 72. He published a "Conclusion" of his literary 
and political labours, which one of the editors of his works 
justly remarks " may be pondered advantageously in every age 
until time shall be no more, for each of its dictates is founded 
on virtue, and consequently is dictated by wisdom. It is a le- 
gacy to the world, for there is no one so exalted, or so humble, 
in station or in talent, but will find himself the wealthier, in the 
best sense of the term, if he determines to benefit by the bishop's 
advice." Feeling this, in its fullest signification, if my reader 
has gained any benefit from the perusal of the foregoing pages — 
got together at a great cost of labour — I make it my request that 
he would peruse carefully, and ponder well, the following some- 
what lengthened extract, which is the end of this famous piece, 



456 EXCELLENT ADDRESS. 

that has excited so much notice as to have been translated into 
most European languages. 

" The great and comprehensive rule of all is that a king 
should consider himself as exalted by Almighty God to that high 
dignity, as into a capacity of doing much good, and of being a 
great blessing to mankind, and, in some sort, a god on earth. 
Therefore, as he expects that his ministers should study to ad- 
vance his service, his interests, and his glory ; and that so much 
the more as he raises them to higher posts of favour and ho- 
nour : so he, whom God has raised to the greatest exaltation this 
world is capable of, should apply himself wholly to cares becom- 
ing his rank and station, to be in himself a pattern of virtue and 
true religion, to promote justice, to relieve and revenge the op- 
pressed, and to seek out men of virtue and piety, and bring them 
into such degrees of confidence as they may be capable of. He 
should encourage a due and generous freedom in their advices, 
to be ready to see his own errors, that he may correct them, and 
to entertain every thing that is suggested to him for the good of 
his people and for the benefit of mankind. And to make a dif- 
ference between those who court his favour for their own ends ; 
who study to flatter, and by that to please him, often to his own 
ruin ; and those who have great views and noble aims, who set 
him on to pursue designs worthy of him, without mean or par- 
tial regards to any ends or interests of their own. It is not 
enough for a prince not to encourage vice or impiety by his own 
ill practices ; it ought to appear that these are odious to him, and 
that they give him horror. A declaration of this kind, solemnly 
made and steadily pursued, would soon bring on at least an ex- 
terior reformation, which would have a great effect on the body 
of the nation, and on the rising generation, though it were but 
hypocritically put on at first. Such a prince would be, perhaps, 
too great a blessing to a wicked world. Queen Mary seemed to 
have the seeds of all this in her ; but the world was not worthy 
of her, and so God took her from it. 

" I will conclude this whole address to posterity with that 
which is the most important of all other things, and which alone 
will carry every thing else along with it ; which is to recommend, 
in the most solemn and serious manner, the study and practice 
of religion to all sorts of men, as that which is both the light of 
the world and the salt of the earth. Nothing does so open our 
faculties and compose and direct the whole man, as an inward 
sense of God, of his authority over us, of the laws he has set us. 
of his eye ever upon us, of his hearing our prayers, assisting our 
endeavours, watching over our concerns; and of his being to 
judge, and reward, or punish, us, in another state, according to 
what we do in this. Nothing will give a man such a detestation 
of sin and such a sense of the goodness of God and of our ob- 



DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES. 457 

ligations to holiness, as a right understanding and a firm belief 
of the christian religion : nothing can give a man so calm a 
peace within, and such a firm security against all fears and dan- 
gers without, as the belief of a kind and wise Providence, and 
of a future state. An integrity of heart gives a man a courage 
and a confidence that cannot be shaken : a man is sure that by 
living according to the rules of religion he becomes the wisest, 
the best, and happiest, creature that he is capable of being. Ho- 
nest industry, the employing his time well, and a constant so- 
briety, an undefiled purity and chastity, with a quiet serenity, are 
the best preservers of life and health; so that, take a man as a 
single individual, religion is his guard, his perfection, his beauty, 
and his glory : this will make him the light of the world, shin- 
ing brightly, and enlightening many round about him. 

" Then take a man as a piece of mankind, as a citizen of the 
world, or of any particular state, religion is indeed then the salt 
of the earth ; for it makes every man to be to all the rest of the 
world whatsoever any one can with reason wish or desire him to 
be. He is true, just, honest, and faithful, in the whole com- 
merce of life, doing to all others that which he would have 
others do to him. He is a lover of mankind, and of his coun- 
try ; he may and ought to love some more than others, but he 
has an extent of love to all, of pity and compassion, not only to 
the poorest, but to the worst ; for the worse they are, they are 
the more to be pitied. He has a complacency and delight in 
all that are truly, though but defectively, good, and a respect 
and veneration for all that are eminently so. He mourns for the 
sins, and rejoices in the virtues, of all that are round about him. 
In every relation of life, religion makes him answer all his obli- 
gations : it will make princes just and good, faithful to their 
promises, and lovers of their people ; it will inspire subjects 
with respect, submission, obedience, and zeal, for their prince. 
It will sanctify wedlock to be a state of christian friendship and 
mutual assistance : it will give parents the truest love to their 
children, and a proper care of their education : it will command 
the returns of gratitude and obedience from children. It will 
teach masters to be gentle and careful of their servants, and 
servants to be faithful, zealous, and diligent, in their masters' 
concerns. It will make friends tender and true to one another; 
it will make them generous, faithful, and disinterested : it will 
make men live in their neighbourhood as members of one com- 
mon body, promoting first the general good of the whole, and 
then the good of every particular, as far as a man's sphere can 
go. It will make judges and magistrates just and patient, hat- 
ing covetousness, and maintaining peace and order, without re- 
spect of persons: it will make people live in so inoffensive a 
manner that it will be easy to maintain justice, whilst men are 



453 VITAL RELIGION. 

not disposed to give disturbance to those about them. This 
will make bishops and pastors faithful to their trust, tender to 
their people, and watchful over them ; and it will beget in the 
people an esteem for their persons and their functions. 

" Thus religion, if truly received and sincerely adhered to, 
would prove the greatest of all blessings to a nation : but by 
religion I understand somewhat more than the receiving some 
doctrines, though ever so true, or the professing them, and en- 
gaging to support them, not without zeal and eagerness. What 
signify the best doctrines, if men do not live suitably to them — 
if they have not a due influence upon their thoughts, their prin- 
ciples, and their lives ? Men of bad lives, with sound opinions, 
are self-condemned, and lie under a highly aggravated guilt : 
nor will the heat of a party, arising out of interest, and managed 
with fury and violence, compensate for the ill lives of such false 
pretenders to zeal ; while they are a disgrace to that which they 
profess and seem so hot for. By religion I do not mean an out* 
ward compliance with form and customs- in going to church, to 
prayers, to sermons, and to sacraments, ivith an external show 
of devotion ; or, which is more, with some inward forced good 
thoughts, in which many may satisfy themselves, while this has 
no visible effect on their lives, nor any inward force to subdue 
and rectify their appetites, passions, and secret designs. Those 
customary performances, how good and useful soever, when 
well understood and rightly directed, are of little value when 
men rest on them, and think that, because they do them, they 
have therefore acquitted themselves of their duty, though they 
continue still proud, covetous, full of deceit, envy, and malice. 
Even secret prayer, the most effectual of all other means, is 
designed for a higher end, which is to possess our minds with 
such a constant and present sense of divine truths as may make 
these live in us and govern us, and may draw down such assis- 
tances as may exalt and sanctify our natures. 

" So that by religion I mean such a sense of divine truth ai 
enters into a man, and becomes a spring of a new nature within 
him ; reforming his thoughts and designs, purifying his heart,* 
and sanctifying him. and governing his whole deportment, his 
words as well as his actions; convincing him that it is not 
enough not to be scandalously vicious, or to be innocent in his 
conversation : but that he must be entirely, uniformly, and con- 
stantly, pure and virtuous, Animating him with a zeal to be 
still better and better, more eminently good and exemplary, using 
prayers, and ail outward devotions, as solemn acts testifying 
what he is inwardly and at heart, and as methods instituted by 
God to be still advancing in the use of them further and further 
into a more refined and spiritual sense of divine matters. This 
is true religion, which is the perfection of human nature, and the 
f oy and delight of every one that feels it active and strong within 



PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. 459 

him. It is true this is not arrived at all at once ; and it will 
have an unhappy alloy, hanging long even about a good man ; 
but, as those ill mixtures are the perpetual grief of his soul, 
so it is his chief care to watch over and to mortify them ; he will 
be in a continual progress, still gaining ground upon himself; 
and as he attains to a good degree of purity, he will find a noble 
flame of life and joy growing upon him. 

" Of this I write with the more concern and emotion, be- 
cause I have felt this the true, and indeed the only, joy which 
runs through a man's heart and life. It is that which has been 
for many years my greatest support ; I rejoice daily in it ; I feel 
from it the earnest of that supreme joy which I pant and long 
for ; I am sure there is nothing else can afford any true or com- 
plete happiness. I have, considering my sphere, seen a great 
deal of all that is most shining and tempting in this world. The 
pleasures of sense I did soon nauseate ; intrigues of state and 
the conduct of affairs have something in them that is more spe- 
cious ; and I was for some years deeply immersed in these, but 
still with hopes of reforming the world, and of making mankind 
wiser and better : but I have found that which is crooked cannot 
be made straight. I acquainted myself with knowledge and 
learning, and that in a great variety, and with more compass 
than depth : but though wisdom exceedeth folly as much as light 
does darkness, yet as it is a sore travail, so it is so very defective 
that what is wanting to complete it cannot be numbered. I 
have seen that two were better than one, and that a three-fold 
cord is not easily loosed ; and have therefore cultivated friend- 
ship with much zeal and a disinterested tenderness ; but I have 
found this also was vanity and vexation of spirit, though it be 
of the best and noblest sort. So that, upon great and long ex- 
perience, I could enlarge on the preacher's text, ' Vanity of vani- 
ties, and all is vanity.' But I must also conclude with him, ' Fear 
God, and keep his commandments ; for this is the all of man, 
the whole both of his duty and of his happiness/ I do therefore 
end all in the words of David, of the truth of which, upon great 
experience and a long observation, I am so fully assured that I 
leave these as my last words to posterity : ■ Come, ye children, 
hearken unto me : I will teach you the fear of the Lord. What 
man is he that desireth life, and loveth many days, that he may 
see good ? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speak- 
ing guile. Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and 
pursue it. The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his 
ears are open to their cry ; but the face of the Lord is against 
them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the 
earth. The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth 
them out of all their troubles. The Lord is nigh unto them 
that are of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of a contrite 
spirit.' " 



460 PERSECUTION OF TRUTH. 

There is one other important character, that demands notice, 
who adorned France at this period, Charles Rollin, the well 
known author of the Ancient History, a book that will last, and 
be read with profit, as long as time shall endure. He was born 
at Paris, Jan. 30, 1661, and was intended for the business of his 
father, a master cutler. His genius was happily discovered by 
a Benedictine, and he was permitted to study in the college of 
Plessis, where his abilities soon procured him the appellation of 
" the Divine. " He succeeded his beloved master, Hersan, in 
1687, as professor of rhetoric and eloquence, and in 1694 was 
appointed rector of the university. In these important offices 
he distinguished himself by his zeal for the improvement of his 
pupils and the honour of learning ; and, by his example and at- 
tention, the Greek language was cultivated very successfully, 
and emulation introduced among the students. In 1699 he was 
made coadjutor to the college of Beauvais, which his reputation 
soon rendered popular, respectable, and flourishing. But, in 
1712, the disputes between the Jesuits and the Jansenists proved 
fatal to his repose. By the influence of Tellier, the king's con- 
fessor, the tool of the Jesuits, he was driven from his appoint- 
ments, and retired to privacy. 

In 1720, he was chosen again rector by the university of 
Paris ; but, two months after, the election was disannulled by a 
lettre de catfiet, and from that time Rollin devoted himself in 
seclusion to the composition of his excellent works. So that 
the inflated and tyrannical Louis did infinite good to posterity, 
while he only intended to crush truth. Thus remarkably does 
the Most High cause the wrath of man to praise Him. Rollin 
died Sept. 14, 1741. This learned man was as amiable in pri- 
vate life as he was respected in public; benevolent and humane, 
he was the friend of virtue, morality, and religion. Voltaire 
passes high eulogiums on his merit as a historian, and calls his 
Ancient History the best compilation in any language, correct, 
eloquent and pleasing. And from that extraordinary book, I 
cannot better part with my reader than by presenting him with 
a few passages taken from the " Conclusion," and which are, in 
most respects, as suitable to the portion of history we have been 
treating of as to that of the kingdoms of Egypt, Macedonia and 
Persia. 

" Behold here, to speak properly, a picture on a small scale 
of the duration of all ages ; of the glory and power of all the 
empires of the world: in a woroVof all that is most splendid 
and most capable of exciting admiration in human greatness ! 
Every excellence, by a happy concurrence, is here found assem- 
bled ; the fire of genius, and delicacy of taste, accompanied by 
solid judgment. Uncommon powers of eloquence, carried to 
the highest degree of perfection, without departing from nature 
and truth; the glory of arms, with that of arts and sciences; 



god's wonderful government. 461 

valour in conquering, and ability in government. What a mul- 
titude of great men of every kind does it not present to our 
view ! What powerful, what glorious kings — what great cap- 
tains — what famous conquerors — what wise magistrates — what 
learned philosophers — what admirable legislators ! We are trans- 
ported with beholding in certain ages and countries, who appear 
to possess them as privileges peculiar to themselves, an ardent 
zeal for justice, a passionate love for their country, a noble dis- 
interestedness, a generous contempt of riches, and an esteem 
for poverty, which astonish and amaze us — so much do they 
appear above the power of human nature. In this manner do 
we think and judge? But, whilst we are in admiration and 
ecstasy at the view of so many shining virtues, the Supreme 
Judge, who can alone truly estimate all things, sees nothing in 
them but littleness, meanness, vanity, and pride. And whilst 
mankind are anxiously busied in perpetuating the power of 
their families, in founding kingdoms, and, if that were possible, 
in rendering them eternal, God, from his throne on high, over- 
throws all their projects, and makes even their ambition the 
means of executing his purposes, infinitely superior to our 
understandings. 

" He alone knows his operations and designs. All ages are 
present to him — ' He seeth from everlasting to everlasting/ 
He has assigned to all empires their fate and duration. In all 
the different revolutions we have seen, nothing has come to 
pass by chance. We know that, under the image of that statue 
which Nebuchadnezzar saw, of an enormous height and terrible 
aspect, whose head was of gold, the breast and arms of silver, 
the belly and thighs of brass, and the legs of iron mixed with 
clay, God thought fit to represent the four great empires, unit- 
ing in them all that is splendid, grand, formidable, and power- 
ful. And of what has the Almighty occasion for overthrowing 
this immense collossus ? ' A small stone was cut out without 
hands, which smote the image upon his feet, that were of iron 
and clay, and brake them to pieces. Then was the iron, the ciay, 
the brass, the silver, and the gold, broken to pieces together, 
and became like the chaff of the summer threshing-floors, and 
the wind carried them away, that no place was found for them ; 
and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, 
and filled the whole earth.' (Daniel ii. 34, 35.) 

" We see with our own eyes the accomplishment of this 
admirable prophecy of Daniel, at least in part. Jesus Christ 
who came down from heaven to clothe himself with flesh and 
blood in the sacred womb of the blessed virgin, without the par- 
ticipation of man, is the small stone that came from the moun- 
tain without human aid. The prevailing characteristics of his 
person, his relations, his appearance, his manner of teaching 



462 THE END OF ALL THINGS. 

his disciples ; in a word, of everything that relates to him, were 
simplicity, poverty, and humility ; which were so extreme that 
they concealed from the eyes of the proud Jews the divine lustre 
of his miracles, how shining soever it was, and from the sight 
of the devil himself, penetrating and attentive as he was, the 
evident proofs of his divinity. Notwithstanding that seeming 
weakness, and even meanness, Jesus Christ will certainly con- 
quer the whole universe. It is under this idea that a prophet re- 
presents him to us — ' He went forth conquering and to conquer.' 
His work and mission are ' to set up a kingdom for his father, 
which shall never be destroyed ; and the kingdom shall not be 
left to other people (like those of which we have seen the his- 
tory), but it shall break in pieces and consume all these king- 
doms, and it shall stand for ever.' The power granted to Jesus 
Christ, the founder of this empire, is without bounds, measure, 
or end, The kings, who so much glory in their might, have 
nothing which approaches in the slightest degree to that of 
Jesus Christ. They do not reign over the will of man, which is 
real dominion. Their subjects can think as they please, inde- 
pendently of them. There are an infinitude of particular actions 
done without their order, and which escape their knowledge as 
well as their power. Their designs often miscarry and come to 
nothing, even during their own lives. At least all their great- 
ness vanishes and perishes with them. But with Jesus Christ 
it is quite otherwise. ' All power is given unto him in heaven 
and in earth.' He exercises it principally upon the hearts and 
minds of men. Nothing is done without his order and permis- 
sion. Everything is disposed by his wisdom and power. Every 
thing co operates, directly or indirectly, to the accomplishment 
of his designs. 

" Whilst all things are in motion and fluctuate upon earth ; 
whilst states and empires pass away with incredible rapidity, and 
the human race, vainly employed with these outward appear- 
ances, are also drawn in by the same torrent, almost without 
perceiving it, there passes in secret an order and disposition of 
things unknown and invisible, which, however, determines our 
fate to all eternity. The duration of ages has no other end 
than the formation of the company of the elect, which augments 
and tends daily towards perfection. When it shall have received 
its final accomplishment, by the death of the last of the elect. 
1 Then cometh the end, when Jesus Christ shall have delivered 
up the kingdom to God, even the Father: when he shall have 
put down all rule, and all authority and power.' God grant that 
we may have our share in that blessed kingdom, whose law is 
truth, whose King is love, and whose duration is eternity ! 
Fia:,fa!/' 



II. W. MARTI iv, Printer'', 19, Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane. 



